GI Joe Special Missions: Part 4
by Jaenelle Angelline
Summary: Continuation of the G.I. Joe Special Missions storyline. Alex and the Joes travel to Colombia to trade her life for Hawk and Olivia's. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 63: Operation

**Part IV: G.I. Joe Special Operations: Endgame**

**Chapter 63: Operation**

"All right, listen up, everybody."

The briefing room quieted as Flint called for their attention. "Lieutenant General Johnson's been in close touch with Chief General Hall at SouthCom HQ, in Miami. This is a special operations mission officially being called Operation: Endgame, and our directives are to rescue General Hawk and Olivia Benson, and to capture or eliminate Cesar Velez. Deadly force is authorized to carry out this last directive, against all hostiles." The look he shot at Scarlett was full of meaning; Scarlett nodded slightly in understanding. She was authorized to shoot Sandra Velasquez if the opportunity arose; the thought filled her with angry satisfaction. While normally she didn't like killing, in Sandra's case she would make an exception.

"Your primary objective is to rescue the hostages and above all, ensure Alex's safety. There will be no repeat of what happened on the last mission. A team of six will be leaving within the next two hours from here. This team will consist of Private Alex Cabot, who, for purposes of this mission, will be codenamed White Queen. Scarlett and Snake Eyes are also going, not only on direct order from the President but also because you two are the best we have at close quarter and hand-to-hand combat. Gung Ho will be going as the mission's weapons expert," and Flint ignored Gung Ho's sigh of relief and the way Ettienne's hand slipped into Alex's. "Beach Head will be going as the mission's commander; Private Cabot, you will obey every order given to you by Sergeant Major Sneedon without argument, no matter what you personally may think. Is that understood?" At Alex's nod, he continued. "The last member of the team will be Cover Girl. From behind, Courtney and Alex look similar, and someone who hasn't met either could easily mistake her for Alex. Between Beach Head, Gung Ho, and Snake Eyes, chances are vanishingly small that anyone will be getting at the female half of the team." A hint of smile cracked his features as he saw the significant looks the guys exchanged with each other. He also didn't miss the eyerolls all three women exchanged at this display of male protectiveness. "Stay in populated, civilized areas at all times wherever possible; it is too easy to hide a significant force in jungle or wooded areas, as you all very well know. However, I believe Chief General Hall has made some provisions for his own jungle experts to join you should it become necessary.

"You'll take a single vehicle out to Fort Hamilton, in Brooklyn; Colonel Michael Gold, the Garrison Commander there, will have a Gulfstream awaiting you. The Gulfstream will take you to US Army Garrison, Miami, where you will then meet with Chief General Hall himself. The Chief General has already arranged for you to have seats on a commercial non-stop flight from Miami International Airport to Jose Maria Cordova International Airport in Medellin, but before you leave the States he will brief you on what plans we have in place.

"As much as we dislike not having a clear battle plan in place prior to a mission of this magnitude, in this case we do not see an option. With General Hawk's and Olivia Benson's lives in the balance, and Alex Cabot's prior example of what this unstable individual is capable of, we cannot take chances; we must appear to be abiding by Cesar Velez's stated plans while attempting to lay plans of our own to counter whatever he may throw at us. General Hawk's personal communication line is being closely monitored for any further contact; it has been isolated and the security codes have been changed so that that will be the only means by which Cesar Velez will be able to contact us to arrange the exchange of Alex for General Hawk and Olivia. By the same token, since we want him to know that we are apparently acquiescing to his demands, you will be issued two sat phones; one coded to Hawk's personal communication line base by which I will pass along his instructions and a second phone that will be on a private coded frequency that we will use to communicate and coordinate our efforts both here and at SouthCom. Do not mistake the two phones; we are proceeding under the supposition that Velez will be monitoring the line coded to General Hawk's frequency and we do not want him to get even the slightest hint of the true depth of our operation.

"Keep in mind, people—this is important—_**there will be no exchange**__._ It is _not _an option. Your sole purpose is to provide a visible lure to draw Velez out into making a move. I have it on the Chief General's authority that there is already a sizable military force in Medellin, carefully maneuvered into Colombia from Manta Base in Ecuador over the last week. With such a highly-ranked member of the Colombian government so closely implicated in this whole deplorable situation, it has been decided that the Colombian embassy will not be alerted to this operation on their soil until after it has been completed; so those military operatives currently in place are deep undercover and will not acknowledge your presence there, nor will you acknowledge that you know they are there.

"Chief General Hall will provide armament and weaponry once you get to Medellin; he has had a number of items smuggled in via those operatives from Manta. However, knowing our penchant for exotic weapons, he has said that if you decide to carry your own he will clear it with Miami International's airport security. So if you want to carry something else, you can; just remember to travel light. This will not be an extended, drawn-out mission. Our timetable, even taking into account Velez's unpredictability, is two weeks, tops." He made a wry face. "I know that's what we were told the last time, but we do mean it this time—and we have the might of the American military to reinforce that schedule, which was something seriously lacking on the last operation. There will be no such lack this time, are we clear on that?" Around the room, heads nodded. "All right. Grab your gear, remember to pack light, and good luck."

"Scarlett!" Cover Girl sprinted to catch up with Scarlett and White Queen as both women headed off down the hall. "Hold on a minute."

"What is it?" Scarlett frowned.

"My hair." At Scarlett's puzzled look, Cover Girl said, "If I'm going along as Alex's decoy, I should look like her, right? So can you cut my hair the same way you cut hers?"

White Queen stared at Cover Girl. "Courtney…you have beautiful hair…it'll take forever to grow back out. Are you sure you want to—"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Cover Girl nodded emphatically.

"Okay." Scarlett nodded. "Let's head back to my quarters. White Queen, you should probably go pack. And check on Ettienne; poor man looks like he's ready to chew holes in the wall for worrying."

Cover Girl grinned wickedly. "I'm sure you can think of something to distract him…" The three women shared snickers, and then Cover Girl headed off with Scarlett.

Alex had already packed in anticipation of this; she'd tossed a few changes of regular clothes, her fatigues; the knife she already carried, snugged into its sheath in the small of her back, a spare pair of boots. After a moment's hesitation, she tossed another change of clothes in the small case. Olivia wasn't wearing any clothes. _If they took them from her she'll need something to wear, and she might have injuries like mine_. She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting dread, then chose a pair of soft, lightweight pants and a hoodie that Olivia had sent her.

But there was one more thing she needed, and she went in search of the one person who could give that to her.

Gung Ho looked up at the tentative tap on his doorframe, saw Alex standing there. "Hey," he grinned. "Finished packing so soon?"

She smiled shyly as she stepped into the room and slid an arm around his waist. "I was already packed. I've been ready for this for the last week, ever since we knew we were going to go to Colombia." She gave him a gentle kiss.

He felt the tentativeness, something he hadn't felt since that first night. Since their afternoon in the shower she'd approached their relationship eagerly, taking as much delight in exploring his body as he did in hers. "What's wrong, Lexi?" It was his private pet name for her; she had said she hated 'Lexi' because her mother used to call her that, but he'd called her 'Sexy Lexi' one evening in the heat of passion. She'd laughed at him for the longest time, and then afterward admitted that she liked it coming from him but he'd better not say that in front of anyone else! He, happy to see her laughing and enjoying something, promised.

"Do you have any pictures of you?"

He frowned. "Why?"

For answer she held up the locket around her neck. "I'd like a picture of you to go in here next to Liv."

"Oh sweetheart. Of course, Alex." He sat down on his bed, opened his night drawer, and took out a shoebox. "Here. Pick one you like."

She sorted through the photos as he rummaged through his drawers, then held one up. "This one. I like this one."

He took one look at it and laughed. "You do know that one was taken of me one night a few years ago when I was out on a bar crawl with Wayne and Courtney?" he sputtered. "I actually don't even remember who took it."

"Yes, but…you look like you're having fun. I like your smile. I want to carry that around, so that…" she choked on the words.

"So that if the worst happens you'll have something to hold onto." Ettienne dropped to a crouch in front of her where she sat on the end of his bed. "Alex. I said it before, and I will say it again. On my honor as a Joe, we will get you in and out. Safe. I swear it."

"Flint said the same thing."

"No, he didn't. He promised you we would get you in and out. He never said 'safe' because we knew the deck was stacked and there was a good chance that we—and you—would get hurt. This time it's different. We have backup; we have the entire American military behind you and the President himself has ordered us to put your safety first. We all know that if you don't come back it will be more than our jobs, our commissions, riding on this. Our peace of mind, our faith in our training and everything we believe true about ourselves will be called into question if you don't come back. If something happens to you I will never forgive myself."

"Ettienne."

"Seriously, Alex. I mean it. I love you and I will never forgive myself if something happens to you."

"Never is a very long time." She lifted her chin, looked him in the eye. "Then how's this. I swear that I will follow the orders given me knowing that they are in my best interest, so that you don't have to mourn me."

"Perfect." He rose from his crouch, kissed the top of her head as he deftly twitched the photo from her hand. "All right. If you _really_ like this one," and his aggrieved face as he said that made her giggle, "then I'll cut it down for you."

A few snips with a pair of nail scissors later and Ettienne's picture was tucked into the locket beside Olivia's. When Alex kissed him again it was still tentative, and he shook his head as she left his quarters so he could continue his packing. _She's still uncertain whether she's coming back. While I don't blame her after what she's been through, I wish she could understand this time's going to be different._ Unnoticed by him, his hands curled into fists around the shirt he was holding. _They will have to kill me before they lay a hand on her. _

He returned to his packing.

"Are we all here?"

Flint, with Lady Jaye beside him, looked at the six Joes striding in unison toward him. Yes, there were six; in her fatigues, White Queen was indistinguishable from Cover Girl; even their hair was cut the same, a fact which made Flint raise an eyebrow. "Corporal Krieger, you changed your hair," he said with mild surprise. As much as Courtney was a tomboy, her hair had been the one vanity she allowed herself; long thick golden waves that Lady Jaye had privately admitted to him once that she envied, although Flint liked her short brown curls better himself.

"Girl's got a right to change her mind." Cover Girl said tartly, and he held both hands up in a gesture of surrender, noting as he did the smile Beach Head tried to hide.

"I'm not arguing." It would make her job as Alex's decoy more effective. Over the last three days Alex had immersed herself into the routine and drills at base; she moved like them, marched like them, even carried herself like them. She and Cover Girl could now almost be mistaken for twins.

Scarlett and Snake Eyes were both dressed in solid, unrelieved black; well, Snake Eyes always dressed like that, even in defiance of regulations that said he should wear fatigues—and who in their right mind would be stupid enough to point out to him that he wasn't in uniform? Half the new recruits on base were too intimidated to even talk to him when they first met him. But Scarlett was now dressed in similar garb, from neck to toe; the only difference was her thick ponytail of red hair, a startling color contrast against the black clothing. And that told Flint more about her state of mind than anything; Scarlett was now in full battle mode, and she would stay there until the mission was completed.

"All present and ready to go, Sir!" Beach Head snapped to attention and saluted, swiftly followed by the rest of the team. Flint snapped to attention and saluted back.

"All right. Get going. Remember to keep in touch on the second satphone, remember the first one is reserved only for those things we want Velez to know." And with that, he stepped back and watched as the team of six made their way across the concrete lot of Fort Wadsworth to the waiting Hummer that had been sent from Fort Hamilton.

"Having second thoughts?" Lady Jaye asked quietly from where she was standing beside him.

"You know something, Allie? It's funny but I don't. Not like we had with the last mission. I don't know if it's extra security in our information and our backup, but I feel better about this one than the last one." He sighed as the Hummer pulled away. "Well, whether I do or don't, it's a moot point. Operation: Endgame is now underway."


	2. Chapter 64: Clandestine Meeting

**Chapter 64: Clandestine Meeting**

The drive over the Verrazano Narrows Bridge was quiet, each member of the team immersed in their own thoughts. The Joes were always quiet at the start of a mission, each mentally preparing themselves for whatever might happen.

Alex was quiet, staring out the window at the heartbreakingly-familiar sight of New York's skyline passing outside the window. It had been almost two years since she'd last seen the city she called home; too long—a lifetime—in terms of what had happened since she left. She wasn't the same person she was when she'd left.

Velez had managed to completely destroy her security and her life. There was very little of the old Alex Cabot left in the Alex Cabot who now sat here with a handful of military personnel on her way to another foreign location. _If I come back from this one, I'm never leaving home again._ And this time, she allowed herself to believe she might actually make it back. _Tienne can be awfully convincing when he's serious. And provided that the entire operation is sanctioned this time-no, scratch that, I'm pretty sure this is sanctioned because there's too many people talking about it. Lieutenant General Johnson, and the Secretary of Defense, for pity's sake, I never once thought I'd ever get this high up in the government. Not exactly the way I would have liked to meet someone that important, but there it is._

And that brought up another issue; where was home? New York City was home for her, but in terms of somewhere where she could actually lie down and sleep, she was essentially homeless. She wasn't quite sure what she'd do if or when she got back. _The Joes have been extraordinarily generous with their base, their time, help, training, even my own quarters—jeez, I'm even starting to sound like them—but none of that is permanent; what do I do when this is over? I'm positive Liv will let me crash with her until I can afford to get another place again…_

And that thought brought tears to her eyes. _Oh God, Liv, I'm so sorry. When I sassed Rafael Gaviria back that day in my office, I never dreamed this is where it would end._ She squeezed her eyes shut, seeing behind her eyelids Olivia strapped to the chair, twitching and screaming. _I knew Sandra hated me but I never dreamed she was in league with Velez. In bed with him, even. And Don and Elliot must be going absolutely frantic by now, wondering where she is and what's happened to her. They know I'm alive—do they know that I'm going to get her? And Clayton—he looked like he was in hell watching her. Leaving aside the fact that he's career military—a General—and protecting civilians is drummed into every last corner of his mind…he was also dating her. That relationship isn't more than a couple of weeks old, and already it's being tested. I hope they both make it. I hope they both survive. Clayton is a very good man; I can see what Liv sees in him from the few encounters I had with him and from what his soldiers say about him, and I hope there's a chance for her to get to know him better. _

She sighed—and jerked reflexively when another hand touched hers. She turned her head, and saw Ettienne looking at her. Gently, he reached up and ran a thumb along her newly-repaired cheekbone, wiping away the traces of tears there, then wordlessly his hand slipped into hers, and gave hers a hard squeeze, and she knew what he was trying to say before he said it. "It'll be okay, Alex. We'll get through this." Not 'We'll get you through this', as in himself and the Joes; this was a very personal promise, that he himself would protect her through this last leg of an incredibly long, bizarre, complicated journey, a journey that had lasted for five years, a journey that she'd mostly undertaken alone. And she felt a warm glow start somewhere in the region of her heart as she realized that at least for this she wouldn't be alone, that she had someone who could physically protect her and wasn't intimidated by her mind and her guts, someone she could depend on and lean on when she simply couldn't go on anymore. She'd found what she was looking for in a man in the most unlikeliest place, in the most unexpected of ways.

_I __**love**__ him. I really do. _The glow spread. _I think I knew that, but…I've been sort of…numb, through this whole recovery, and I don't know if now is the time to tell him…but he's going to risk his life for me, and if he dies for me I'll never forgive myself for not telling him...like I didn't tell Kris…_

She leaned across the empty space between their two seats and kissed him, long and deep, fervently. "I love you," she whispered, and the smile that broke across his face told her that he knew just what had kept her from saying that before.

"I love you too, Alex," he whispered.

"Oh for pity's sake. Get a room, you two!" came Scarlett's cheerfully exasperated voice from behind them, and Alex and Ettienne broke off the kiss to a chorus of chuckles from the other occupants of the vehicle. "In fact, Ettienne, I know for certain you have some leave time coming up. When all this is over, why don't you take some time off? I can personally recommend this beach in New Zealand where clothes are definitely optional…"

The laughter this time was heartier and heartfelt.

There was some sort of tie-up at the security gate in front of Fort Hamilton; after about three minutes of waiting their driver steered around it and entered by a smaller side gate marked 'Authorized personnel only.'

As they got out they were met by a young man, a corporal by the patch on his arm, who saluted Beach Head respectfully. "Sergeant Major, Sir! Garrison Commander Gold will be here to greet you momentarily, Sir!"

"At ease, Corporal. What's all the fuss at the gate?" BeachHead waved at the knot of personnel grouped around the front gate.

"A couple of civilian law enforcement officers want to interview a soldier, Sir." The young Private sounded slightly less uptight as he answered. "They won't take no for an answer." The Joes all craned their head to look, and Alex suddenly gave a little gasp.

"What's wrong?" Beach Head raised an eyebrow; she'd carefully shifted her stance so that her face was no longer in view of the knot of people by the gate, but her face…she looked like she was barely suppressing the desire to run over there, and her anguish was obvious.

"The guy in the dark blue suit is the Chief of Detectives. And the other two…it's El and Don." And then, seeing their puzzled looks, she explained, "Olivia's partner and their captain. Don's the one who gave me my gun." She swallowed hard. "They must be going frantic. Oh God. I wish there were some way I could tell them what's going on."

And at that moment a tall man in navy blue dress uniform came over and saluted. "Good day, Sergeant Major. Colonel Michael Gold." He saw their looks. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Sir. Two of the civilians at the gate are friends of Private Cabot, and they are obviously worried about Miss Benson's having been kidnapped along with General Abernathy."

"I see." The Colonel looked at Alex searchingly for a moment, then turned. "Corporal Haver, have the three law enforcement officers taken to visitor's waiting." As the Corporal hurried off, the man turned to Alex. "Private. Do you trust these men?"

"Sir. El and Don, yes. Elliot's a former Marine, and Don's a former Green Beret, Vietnam. I don't know about the Chief of Detectives, though."

"If sworn to confidentiality, will they keep a secret?"

"Sir, I was in Federal WitSec for two years. They knew about it and didn't tell anyone, not even when it looked like they would go to jail for it. So yes. I trust them with my life and my secrets."

Gold checked his watch. "The transport for Miami leaves in an hour. I can give you ten minutes."

"Sir…" Alex swallowed. "Thank you, Sir." She snapped a salute.

Gould looked amused. "You really have 'gone native' with us, haven't you? I almost can't tell you're actually a civilian."

"I had the best teachers, Sir." She heard Scarlett's amused chuckle behind her, saw Gold's answering grin.

"Come on inside. While I talk to their commanding officer—the Chief of Detectives—you can have a private word with your friends."

"Alex!"

She abandoned all pretense at military formality and ran across the room, throwing her arms around first Elliot, then Don. "Oh, God, I've missed you guys, I can't tell you…" her eyes weren't quite dry.

Don didn't say anything, just hugged her tightly, then stepped back at arm's length and looked her over critically. "You look…different."

She blushed pink. "The scars will fade after a little while."

"I'm not talking about the scars." His eyes took in the red scar line at the corner of her eye, then dismissed it. "I'm talking about _you_. _You're _different. And it's not just the fatigues." He looked her over again. "Though I have to say you look better in them than I did."

She started to laugh, a little hysterically. "I'll take that as a compliment." She sobered. "I don't have much time, and there are a lot of things I can't tell you. But I assume you came here because Olivia's missing and you're pretty sure it had something to do with me."

Don nodded. "We found a Desert Eagle and a military-issue knife in Olivia's apartment; the gun had been used to shoot two men who were Colombian nationals who had no paperwork identifying their right of entry to the US. Crime lab ran the prints on the gun and came up with the name of Clayton Abernathy, US Army, but didn't turn up anything else; the military file is heavily redacted to protect what is obviously confidential information."

"The Colombian nationals were hired by Cesar Velez. He's been on my tail for the last three years I've been at the ICC. General Hawk was visiting Olivia, walked in on her kidnapping. He did his best but when Olivia's life was threatened he capitulated rather than put her life in danger. Velez contacted the special forces team at the facility at which I was staying and offered to trade my life for theirs." She took a deep breath. "In Medellin."

"No. We do not negotiate with terrorists." Elliot folded his arms. "That's the first thing they drum into us at training."

Alex shook her head firmly. "I can't give you all the details. The only thing I can tell you is that there is something being done about it."

Don looked at her, eyes wide. "You're going to Medellin. With the force that's going to try and liberate Olivia and General Abernathy."

"I can't tell you that."

"Like hell!" Elliot exploded. "Despite the uniform, Alex, you're not military and are not bound by military law…"

"_Elliot._" Alex's pronunciation of his name stopped him instantly; he, never having heard that tone before from her, stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "For the purposes of this mission and for Olivia's sake, yes, I am military at the moment. And I don't care what you think about that." She saw his face. "El, please understand. Cesar Velez has ruined five years of my life, changed me in ways I never thought I'd change, put me through unimaginable experiences. I won't let him do the same to Olivia, okay? It's time for this to end. One way or another. If I don't come back, fine. I've accepted that. But I will not let him have Olivia, she's innocent in all of this and didn't deserve to be dragged into this…chess game. My white queen to Velez's black king. It ends now, Elliot." She stepped back. "I won't make any promises. I can't promise that we'll get Olivia back, or what state she'll be in if we do. But I will make the effort, and I have a group of friends who are willing and more than able to help. Maybe someday I'll be able to tell you everything, but right now we're on a tight schedule. I'm sorry. It was extraordinarily kind of them just to give me this much."

Elliot opened his mouth to say something, but Don looked at him, and he shut up. "Alex. I understand that you can't tell us certain things, but…are you okay? You're not being coerced into doing this, are you?"

Alex shook her head. "No. Not this time. This time my eyes are wide open and I'm prepared."

"'Not this time' implies that you were before."

Alex throttled down the impulse to tell them everything. She didn't know how much she could actually reveal, and no idea how much of General Clancy's involvement with her capture and imprisonment wasn't highly classified. None, she suspected; treason at this high a level within the American military would seriously hurt the people's faith in their government, and while she knew that the topic would eventually end up as a John Munch Conspiracy Of The Week Special, she suspected that the actual truth would never be released. "I'm sorry. I can't tell you that."

"You're even starting to sound like one of them."

She frowned, stung. "Since when was this about 'them' and 'us', Elliot? And don't forget, you used to be one of 'them', as you so colorfully put it." She could feel an angry flush rising to her cheeks. "We're all on the same page. We want the same thing. I want Olivia back as much as you do. I want Velez dead _more _than you do. So don't you dare draw that line, Elliot Stabler." She knew he and Don were both staring, but she couldn't help it; the Joes had been completely on her side in all of this, and she would defend them even against Elliot if she had to, as she would all her friends, as she'd defended him and Olivia on several occasions. "There's no 'them' and no 'us'. It's 'we'."

"All right." Don stepped in, as he always did when his 'kids' argued. "Well, we want both you and Olivia back safe and sound, Alex. Tell them that." He stepped forward, gave her a hug. "Take care of yourself," he whispered.

"I will. You take care too. I'll see you when I get back."

Despite Elliot's words, he hugged her just as tightly. "Stay safe," was all he said, but she felt his real meaning in his hug. He was terrified for Olivia and for Alex herself, and yet helpless to do anything about it, and whenever Elliot Stabler felt helpless about something he lashed out. She was used to it by now and didn't hold it against him as she hugged him back. "Thanks, Elliot." And she left the room, head high, step firm, ready for whatever lay ahead.


	3. Chapter 65: Fort Hamilton

**Chapter 65: Fort Hamilton**

Colonel Gold shook his head as he faced the short, balding man across his desk. "There is no officer named Clayton Abernathy at this base. The Clayton Abernathy you met that night outside the restaurant with your detective is a two-star general, General Clayton Abernathy, and he is not here at this base. His actual post is highly classified and not open for civilian discussion, and his current whereabouts are also highly classified. You will not be interrogating him about Detective Olivia Benson's disappearance without a court order." He glanced at the clock. Ten minutes. He'd promised Alex Cabot ten minutes with the other two men.

He just hadn't known how uncomfortable his part of those ten minutes was going to be.

It wasn't that this man, the Chief of Detectives for the Manhattan precincts, was particularly unpleasant. No, he was levelheaded and rational. And polite. The problem was that he wanted to talk to General Hawk, who not only wasn't at this base, but wasn't even in the country at the moment. He was quite insistent—which was also reasonable, since this was, after all, a highly-decorated veteran detective in one of the highest-stress, highest-visibility police units in Manhattan—any crime that involved children was automatically high-visibility—and that both Olivia and Clayton had been involved in a drive-by shootout was also very noticeable. Gold didn't hold it against Clayton; it was a deplorable complication but it wasn't like Clayton had planned it, after all.

Ah. Ten minutes. Finally. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm due for a briefing in five minutes and I absolutely have to go. Corporal," he called to his aide. "Please see that our guests are escorted back to their vehicle and that the base perimeter is secured. Has the Gulfstream from Miami arrived yet?"

"Sir. Communications tower says the G4 will arrive in fifteen minutes. Sir." the Corporal saluted, then turned to the Chief of Detectives. "If you'll come with me, sir." And finally the man had to leave.

Gold waited three minutes; in his experience, that was the exact amount of time required for a visitor to leave his office, go down the straight line of the hall, then turn the corner by the security door. At three and a half minutes, he stepped out into the hall, closed his office door, and headed for a smaller door halfway down the other end of the hall. "Well?" he said as he opened the door.

This room adjoined the interview room one in which Alex and Don and Elliot had spoken; it was outfitted as a monitoring room, though a much less obvious one than one would have expected; there was no one-way mirror here, just a monitor attached to the sophisticated panoramic camera disguised as a piece of statuary and mounted to the tabletop. Beach Head and Scarlett sat there, facing the now-blank monitor. "I have to admit I'm impressed," Beach Head admitted as he got up from the table.

Scarlett, standing next to Beach Head, nodded. "She didn't reveal anything about our mission, and I'll bet she was just dying to. These are very close friends, to judge from the way they greeted each other, but aside from telling them that Velez wanted to trade Olivia and Clayton for Alex in Medellin, she didn't tell them anything. Both of those men are ex-military themselves, and they did say they figured Alex was on her way there, but she refused to confirm it with them and in fact got in a bit of a pissing match with the younger man, Gung Ho's Marine friend, when he asked her whose side she was on. His exact words were 'us or them', with 'them' meaning us Joes, but she refused to rise to the bait and just pointed out we were all on the same side, we all want the same thing. And then Dad broke up the argument between his kids."

She grinned. "I kinda got the impression he's used to stepping in between them and playing referee; he had this expression like he's done it many times before and he was looking forward to doing it again. Even though she's not a police officer, she apparently works with these guys so often that the unit captain sort of looks on her as one of his."

"So despite her loyalties to her friends, she's also dedicated to this mission. Can we trust her to maintain military discipline and military confidentiality on this mission?"

"Absolutely." Beach Head affirmed. "Those guys are her friends and co-workers, true, but the civilian Clayton was kidnapped with, Olivia Benson, is Private Cabot's lover. Her safety is going to be Alex's number-one consideration on this entire mission."

Scarlett had to fight the grin that threatened to split her face as she saw Colonel Gold's pained grimace at the thought of Alex being a lesbian. _Uncomfortable with that, huh? So much for keeping an open mind._ Aloud, she said, "So long as Alex isn't given an order that she feels will jeopardize Olivia's—and Clayton's, by extension—lives, she'll obey them. Even if she doesn't immediately see the need to do whatever she's told, or even if the order seems contradictory, she'll stop and think about it first before she disobeys. She's pretty sharp, for a civilian."

"All right. Thank you, Sergeant Major and Master Sergeant, for agreeing to this little piece of subterfuge; I wanted to make sure we weren't sending a hotheaded know-it-all civilian out on this trip. I read the initial mission paperwork Clancy sent over, and I read all the reports your personnel filled out after your return, and what I read in Mister Clancy's paperwork didn't jive with what was written in those reports. I just really wanted to make sure we were doing the right thing before we take that irrevocable last step."

"All due respect, Sir, but you've already decided to take that last step or we wouldn't be waiting for the G4 to arrive." Scarlett pointed out.

Colonel Gold looked at her. "Now who's being sharp?"

Scarlett shrugged and grinned. "Wouldn't be here right now if I weren't, Colonel."

"True. You guys are the best the American military has to offer. All right. Let's go join the rest of your team and get you on that G4."

Alex's eyes narrowed when she saw Scarlett and Beach Head come in. From the look on her face Scarlett knew the blond lawyer had a pretty good idea where she and Beach Head had been, but she came to attention with the rest of the Joes as Gold cleared his throat ostentatiously.

"All right. Now that we have that cleared up…the G4 will be here momentarily to take you to Miami, where Chief General Hall will give you a full debriefing and prepare you for your arrival in Medellin. But before you leave, I wanted to have a few words with you.

"I knew General Clancy well; he was a frequent visitor here, as I believe he was likely a visitor to your base as well. While I considered him a friend, and we did see each other socially outside of work, I find his actions throughout this whole fiasco deplorable. Sending inexperienced young soldiers out on an unsanctioned military mission was bad enough, but forcing an unarmed, untrained civilian out into hostile territory knowing that that civilian, Private Cabot, would face an unimaginable situation…" He swallowed hard. "Private Cabot, please accept my sincerest apologies. I can't even begin to imagine what that must have been like for you. Or for the rest of you, who were forced to see the results of that situation and to help her recover. It is a testament to your inner strength that you have not only managed to survive but also to regain your sense of self and some measure of inner peace. And for that alone you deserve the utmost respect from us." He inclined his head in her direction; she had flushed, but she nodded a quick acquiescence of his words.

"There will be no repeat of that situation this time. You have my word on it, the word of Chief General Hall of SouthCom, and the President himself. Your safety, the safety of your…friend, Miss Benson, and General Abernathy is our highest priority. And so, Godspeed, and I wish you well on this trip."

"I wish people wouldn't do that," Alex burst out once they were on the plane.

"Do what?" Scarlett turned in her seat to look at Alex.

"Colonel Gold. He apologized for what happened to me. I wish people would stop doing that." Scarlett opened her mouth, but Ettienne caught her eye. She closed it.

"Do you really mind that people acknowledge that you recovered from something they can't even imagine? Or do you just not want to be reminded of what happened?" He leaned forward, trying to catch Alex's eye as she stared at her hands, folded tightly in her lap.

"Both. I guess. I just…I'm no better or worse than any of you. If you were placed in that position you'd do just the same…probably better."

"Alex." It was Cover Girl's turn to stare at Alex from her seat, and she ignored Ettienne's 'shut up' look. "Don't be a damn idiot. We train for this. That SERE course manual Allie gave you—we all took that. The full 21 day course. Taught by instructors who knew where the limits were, who were aware that certain things were off limits and they couldn't do, and that includes anything that could even be slightly construed as sexual assault."

Scarlett rolled her eyes at Courtney's bluntness. "What Courtney's trying to say, Alex, is that while we're all trained in resistance, none of us know exactly how we'll react in a given situation because if we're ever captured, our captors won't have limits. They won't stick to the manual. They've never seen that manual. So while we're soldiers and we train for this, there's a certain element of unpredictability to any situation, and none of us can say that we will definitely do 'better' or 'worse' than you did."

Ettienne leaned in. "And leaving all that aside, we're soldiers. We know full well that sometime during our military careers, we may find ourselves in a situation behind enemy lines over which we have no control. I signed my contract with the Marines knowing full well that capture could be a possibility during a war, a terrorist threat, or a private enemy out after us personally. Now you tell me; when you signed up to go work for the ICC, was there any sort of ingrained understanding that capture was a possibility and torture would be likely in that situation, and was there ever anything saying that you'd be brutalized and raped?"  
>Alex bit her lower lip. "When I signed on, no," she said, thinking hard. "But when I started doing fieldwork, started actually going out to the villages in the DRC to get testimony, they had me sign what they called a 'statement of understanding' that I wouldn't hold them liable if unforeseen circumstances placed us in harm's way."<p>

"You gotta be kidding me. They aren't worried about you, they're worried about their liability?" Scarlett shook her head. "That's exactly why I decided not to be a lawyer."

Alex started to laugh. "To be completely honest, the idea of capture and torture is not one that's normally associated with law work," she finally managed through her laughter. "And very few of the victim's advocates who do fieldwork ever go as deep in the jungle as I went. I'd been there almost a full year before I started doing field work, and then only to the interim emigrant camp in Keshero. But somehow word got around that I was trying to help the people, and more people, children especially, would talk to me, and so my work took me deeper and deeper into the jungle, but no one actually seemed to be after me specifically. Though I woke up with my heart pounding some nights with images of being captured and raped, I never seriously thought it would be a possibility until I crossed paths with Zimurinda the first time. And even then, I had no idea what would actually happen if I found myself in that situation." She shook her head, then looked thoughtful. "I wonder if they would have hurt me as badly as they did if Velez hadn't been behind the scenes egging him on, telling him what to do. I wonder what they thought about Velez's man standing there taking pictures…"

She stared at the toe of her boot, her voice going flat. "When I saw you guys get off the plane and there were only five of you, I knew Zimurinda would get me. My focus shifted to getting the testimony Judy needed and to protecting you guys. God help me, but I thought it would be simple rape—if anything about rape could be called simple. I'd worked rape cases for so long, and Liv and I both had discussions about how we'd handle it if it were ever either of us, and we both agreed that we could handle simple rape. Oh God, the thought of what Velez might be doing to her…I'm trying not to think about it because there's nothing I can do about it right now." Tears started.

Ettienne wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him; she sighed and leaned against him, wiping her tears away as the other Joes sat silently. "When we're done he will either be dead and this will be over, or he will be sitting in a prison somewhere. And if he does end up in prison I will be two steps behind you until he is dead. I will make sure he never touches you again."

"The thought of going out to face him terrifies me. The thought of what he could be doing to Liv terrifies me more. I just…I don't know if I can survive it again."

"You won't have to," Scarlett had enough of listening to Alex worry about Olivia. There was nothing to be done right now, worrying wasn't going to change whatever was happening at the moment, and letting Alex work herself up into an emotional mess wasn't going to prove productive for anyone. Better to channel that into physical preparation. "You won't have to because we've mentally prepared you as much as we could for this, and seeing as how we're on a plane right now and there's a space in back big enough for what I have in mind, let's go over some of those close-quarter combat techniques we were working on before we left to physically prepare you. Ettienne, care to come along as a guinea pig?"


	4. Chapter 66: Pursuit

**Chapter 66: Pursuit**

When he'd first heard that Cesar Velez was behind the drug smuggling in Colombia, Clayton had done some private research on his own, just to familiarize himself with the area. He'd found Colombia on the map, had seen that Ecuador and Venezuela bordered Colombia, had noted that Manta base in Ecuador was the closest US military base to Medellin. He hadn't really paid much attention at the time, because he hadn't once expected that he would actually find himself in Colombia.

_Jesus friggin' Christ. Been getting soft desk jockeying._ He cursed himself for not paying more attention as he drove as fast as he dared in their stolen Jeep away from Velez's hacienda. He didn't know where they were; the overcast sky made it difficult for him to judge where the sun was, in order to orient himself.

First rule after escaping: figure out where you are. He fell back on his SERE training, digging deep into his memory for the tips that had been drilled into him at Fort Bragg. _Okay. The air is damned humid here right now, so I'll assume there is a river around here somewhere. The river would be in lowlands, and right now I'm climbing slightly, so maybe I'm heading away from the river? I'm going to keep following this road until I see a road sign somewhere, or the sun comes out. Then I'll try and find that river; where there's running water there will be people, and just being able to ask someone questions will help. I don't want to run the risk of coming up against one of Velez's people, but I don't have a lot of choices._

He stole a glance at his passenger. After he'd hauled Olivia into the passenger seat she'd retained just enough presence of mind to weakly grab for the seatbelt and buckle in; an automatic response, probably, from being a cop, but one he blessed right now; it hadn't taken conscious thought for her to do that. Which was good, because at this moment he didn't know if she was capable of any kind of conscious thought. She slumped in the seat in a drugged stupor, her eyes either closed or her eyelids open but eyes themselves rolled all the way back into her head, and her hands shook and twitched uncontrollably. _I don't have a lot of experience with illegal drugs and their withdrawal symptoms, so I'm going to cross my fingers and hope this is as bad as it's going to get._

His side was a constant, driving spear of agony, and the fuzzy grayness of exhaustion, dehydration, hunger, and thirst didn't help. But he absolutely didn't have time for it now, not with Olivia in much worse shape and depending on him to get them out of there. He sucked in a deep breath, cleared his mind, and followed those long-ago instructions. _Accept the pain, take a deep breath, clear your mind. Don't panic. If you accept it you won't fight it subconsciously._ He took deep breaths, closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them the pain had receded to a manageable level, and the graying out of his vision cleared a small bit.

Sun! The clouds had cleared a bit, and he could see the sun in the sky as a bright circle mostly obscured by overcast clouds that promised rain. _It's in front of me, so I must be driving west. Colombia is on the western edge of South America, and Ecuador is southwest of the country. If I could just figure out where the hell I am, we can get to the base in Ecuador. Alternatively, once we get far enough away from Velez I can stop and pick up a phone somewhere and call base, but I don't want to risk that this close to Velez's home. If someone sees us and Velez gets us again, I'm positive he'll kill me for killing Sandra and He's not going to relax his guard enough to let Liv try another escape again. He could kill her outright but I don't think so; he wants to see Alex squirm, and the best way to do that is to keep Olivia alive and torture her in front of Alex. I saw Alex's face in the briefing room—she looked like she was going through living hell watching Olivia twist and scream from that bitch Sandra's torture._

And that brought up another thought; what were his people doing? _The Secretary of Defense was there; I don't wonder, considering what my security clearance level is. I'm going to catch hell for getting kidnapped, but it couldn't be helped—I couldn't let them kill an unarmed innocent civilian._ He cursed again. _If that damned IAB rat let her keep that 40 cal we wouldn't be here right now! She's an excellent shot and she damned well could have taken out the two men who grabbed her in the garage, then jumped in her car and got the hell out of there! She's got enough common sense to realize that her apartment would have been a trap and she'd have run to the station—and there would have been five floors of cops between her and Velez's hitmen. They wouldn't have gotten her out of there. Damn that IAB rat!_

_I'm pretty sure there's a rescue mission of some kind either being planned or in the early stages of execution. The US military wouldn't leave a two-star General and an innocent civilian in enemy hands, no matter what the 'official' position is regarding non-negotiation with terrorists. Which presents an even better argument for getting out of there; get Liv and myself out of the way so my people can do what they need to do._ He closed his eyes and ran through his pain-acceptance exercises, pushing the gray fog back again.

And when he opened them he saw a jeep barreling straight at him.

He cursed and cut the wheel hard to the left, missing the other vehicle by inches; as he glanced back he saw the driver floundering, trying to turn the other Jeep around to follow Clayton. The road had been steadily climbing, and he'd instinctively taken the less-traveled roads to reduce the chance of being spotted. They were now on a narrow track barely a car and a half wide overlooking a very steep ravine whose floor was hidden by the profusion of jungle greenery.

_The river must be down there somewhere._ He steered the jeep as close to the rocky wall of the gorge, staying as far from the edge as possible; he didn't want the other jeep maneuvering between his jeep and the wall, thereby forcing him off the narrow rock ledge on which the dirt road perched. _It's a long way down, and I don't want to think about what either of our chances for survival are if we went over._ The thought didn't even bear thinking about.

A bullet whizzed past his front window; then another. A moment later one hit the back window of the jeep and shattered it, sending flying glass across the back seat. _God damn it, they have machine guns!_ He floored the pedal, gunning the engine and sending it shooting forward. _This road has to go somewhere. It has to widen somewhere and get back to a main road. I just have to get there first._

Unfortunately the other jeep's driver seemed to have the same idea, and their jeep seemed to be in slightly better shape than his._ Just my luck; I would have picked the one that was in the shop for repairs!_ He spared a quick moment to wish for Courtney's magic touch with machines, then grimly focused on surviving.

_No weapons, so I can't return fire. Have an injured civilian and I'm injured too. Best to just make a run for it._ He increased speed, going as fast as he dared, but the other driver was either more familiar wit the road or a better driver; he was going faster than common sense would have deemed safe, and Clayton gripped the wheel hard and braced himself as the other jeep's fender made contact with his rear bumper. _Damn it!_ His jeep swerved into the wall, and the passenger side mirror was gone, scraped off against the rock wall of the ledge.

Olivia seemed to have roused when he picked up his speed, but a quick glance showed she wasn't going to be any help. She was choking, it seemed like; vomiting, another sure sign of withdrawal. Some small part of her must have realized what a desperate situation they were in because she was trying to fight the need. "Oh Jesus, Liv, baby, I'm so sorry," he told her, not even knowing if she could consciously process what he was saying. She was fighting her own body, and the drugs that had been unwillingly put into it, and the frantic swaying, rocking movement of the jeep couldn't be helping. "Liv, don't fight it; you have to get those drugs out of your system. Don't worry about what I'll think, I've seen worse." And she lost her fight just as the other jeep gunned their engine again.

The bullet the other occupant of the jeep was firing wasn't aimed at Clayton or Olivia this time; it seemed lower, aimed for the tires, and Clayton heard the screech of tortured metal as it ripped into the metal skin of the vehicle just over the wheel well. _Christ, if we lose a tire on this road we'll go over!_ And in a move borne of desperation, he steered his jeep out into the middle of the ledge, then slammed on his brakes.

The other Jeep saw his brakelights far too late to stop. There was a metallic shriek as overstressed brakes tried to stop, then failed; the jeep Clayton and Olivia were in was sent careening against the rock wall as they were rear-ended by another vehicle going roughly forty miles an hour. The front fender of the pursuing jeep crumpled inward, onto itself, and Clayton heard what sounded like an explosion as twisted metal punctured the other vehicle's front driver's side tire. There was a frantic scream from inside as it careened across the road, a moment of breathlessness as the driver tried frantically to steer the vehicle away from the ledge; but it was coming up too close, too fast…and then the other vehicle was gone, plunging over the edge of the road down into the ravine.

Clayton threw open his door, racing as close to the edge as he dared, looked over. No showy Hollywood-type explosion here; it simply rolled downhill faster, until with startling suddenness it fetched up against a tree growing stubbornly halfway between the ledge and the treeline below. The tree trunk split as the impact of the jeep's weight broke it, and as it fell the jeep turned on its side, off the wheels. Clayton wasn't sure but he thought he heard a despairing scream from inside the other jeep; the last one, because as the jeep rolled over he saw the inside of the windshield turn red with its occupants' blood.

He turned away with a grimace; what a waste. He wasn't going to mourn them, but he deplored their stupidity for following a madman like Velez and paying the ultimate price. Well, there was no help for it. He returned to the jeep, just in time to see Olivia unbuckle her seatbelt, blindly grope for the door handle. "Liv…" he ran for the passenger side, yanked her door open. She didn't so much as climb out; it was something more like a barely-controlled fall as she crumpled to her knees and threw up helplessly in the dirt. Her body's shaking was uncontrollable now, she fell to her side, legs kicking, and he caught her, running his forearm across her chest to support her in a face-down position she was unable to maintain herself because of the muscle tremors. If she rolled over on her back she could asphyxiate in her own vomit, and he wasn't going to let that happen.

She was whimpering in between heaves, and as he reached out to brush a strand of sweat-soaked honey-brown hair from her forehead he realized her skin was hot. Burning, actually; she literally felt like she was burning up. _Hyperthermia,_ his SERE training supplied helpfully. _The body's core temperature elevates to dangerous levels. If left unchecked and untreated, the brain will suffer damage first, then vital organs will shut down one by one until death results._

"No! I'm not going to lose her like this!" He squeezed his eyes shut, racking his brain frantically to think of some way he could help. _I know if this is a withdrawal symptom there are drugs that help, but I don't have access to those and no medical knowledge even if I had an entire pharmacy in front of me. But if this were a simple case of survival training hyperthermia, then just dropping her core temperature will keep her brain from shutting down._

River. Water. He stared at the gorge below him. _There's a river down there. If I can get her to it in time, soak her clothes with water, it'll help bring her core temperature back down._ He hauled her up in his arms, grimacing at the pain in his side that was now returning full force as the adrenaline from the car chase wore off, and carried her back to the Jeep, dumping her into her seat and buckling her belt."Hold on, Liv," he said, even though he knew she was beyond hearing him. With her body temperature this high, conscious thought, verbal coherence, and rationalization shut down.

He got into the driver's seat and turned the key. Nothing. Sucking in a harsh breath, he tried again. Still nothing. "Shit!" he screamed, pounding the steering wheel in frustration. "Come on, move it!"

And then the road in front of him exploded.

He stared up through the cracked windshield, startled, then his heart sank into his chest as he saw, on another, wider ledge?—or was it the top of the ridge?—about twenty feet above them, two jeeps were parked, and one was considerably newer and shinier. And, standing beside it, his face suffused with rage, Cesar Velez.

"You thought you had escaped me, but no one gets away from me! No one!" He held up a hand, and Clayton felt despair settle over him like a blanket. A grenade; that was what the first explosion had been. Velez had just wanted him to know he was going to blow them up before he did it. And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that Clayton could do to stop it, to avoid it. They were going to die. "Goodbye, General! Tell the cop bitch that Miss Cabot will be joining her soon!"

The grenade dropped.


	5. Chapter 67: Survival

**Chapter 67: Survival**

It landed on the hood, rocked back and forth for a couple of seconds. The hood of Clayton's jeep had deformed, crumpling upward after its collision with the rock wall, and now the grenade followed the warped, twisted metal on a crazy path down until it landed on the dashboard, unimpeded by the now-broken windshield. Clayton didn't even think consciously as he grabbed it, tossed it out the nearest window. His window. The driver's side window, which overlooked the gorge. He felt a moment of despair when he realized he'd thrown it with his injured hand, and the grenade hadn't sailed out harmlessly over the ravine as he'd expected it to.

Instead, it hit the ground just outside his door and exploded.

The side of the Jeep exploded inward from the blast. Clayton felt a moment of incredible pain as the metal skin of the jeep blew inward, twisted metal piecing his side and another, much sharper agony erupted right under his knee as his shin broke under the impact of the metal frame of the car impacting with it. And then there was nothing but spinning, dizzying pain as the entire ledge gave way under the vehicle, dumping the jeep on its side, and then the world was turning, rolling, in a stomach-churning, quilt-crazy way that sent his stomach alternately into his throat and down to his shoes. He heard someone screaming, a sound of pure terror, and only as he dazedly flicked his eyes sideways did he realize it wasn't Olivia screaming, it was himself.

Over and over. It seemed like an eternity. If this was hell, it was well named. And the only thing he could think of was _Oh God, if this is hell, I know I've done plenty to deserve it but please, not Liv too!_

Then, suddenly, the world of spinning green came to an end, and he had a brief glimpse of pristine, clear, beautiful river between two high valley walls. _Oh Jesus, it's beautiful, thank you…_

And then there was nothing.

Cold.

She was cold.

And wet.

Olivia kept her eyes closed as she tried to figure out why it felt like she was floating but still stationary. Her fuzzy brain wouldn't work, and she finally gave up trying to figure that puzzle out and just simply opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was a small bird, perched on a jutting spar of twisted metal. "Hey," she tried to say, but her voice came out as a harsh croak, and the bird jumped, startled. She tried again. Same result. The bird evidently decided this was too strange for it, and it sprang into the air and flew away. Olivia blinked confusedly at the jagged triangle of blue sky framed by that twisted metal. _The sun is out. Why am I cold?_

And then she blinked again, and her surroundings swam into semi-focus. _A vehicle. I'm in a vehicle. And it's in the water. Oh God, the East River's polluted as hell, I gotta get out of this…_ she turned her head to the left, to figure a way out of wherever 'here' was, and came face to face with the weathered, craggy features of General Clayton Abernathy.

_Were we on a date when we went into the river? But wait, this isn't my car or his. What happened? Must have been some night, I can't remember the last time I went out with someone and drank so much I didn't remember the night afterward. The last time was…was with **Alex**_!

Memory rushed back. _Oh God. Velez kidnapped Clayton and me from my apartment…I'm not even going to ask what he was doing there…I don't remember much from afterward but Clayton must have gotten us out._

And now the sensation of being both wet and cold took over, and she fumbled clumsily for her seatbelt. _Christ, we have to get out of this. Looks like our escape vehicle ended up in a river somewhere. I don't know where we are; I don't even remember getting here. Oh…_**_ow!_ **she'd reached for the seatbelt and the sudden movement of her midriff muscles had reminded her of the agony between her legs, then reawakened the pain in every muscle of her body that had knotted up from the electrical current that had caused her so much pain. _Sandra..._

But there was no time to reflect. She was starting to shake uncontrollably, from cold, and the triangle of blue sky she'd been looking at was getting darker quickly. She forced herself to move, crying out at the pain of tight muscles from the electrical torture and the tearing agony between her legs but still fiercely determined; an airbag had inflated in the headrests of both hers and Clayton's seats, presumably to protect a rear passenger from an impact but they had served as inflated pillows for both Clayton and Olivia, keeping their heads above water. _Thank God for small miracles._

She paused for a long moment as she got to her knees on the seat; the jeep had landed in the water, rear wheels embedded downward in the riverbed, and the water was just shallow enough that it only came halfway up the back of the driver and passenger seats. High enough to cover most of her torso in water, leaving only her and Clayton's chests and heads above the surface.

_Have to…get him out… _She unbuckled her seatbelt, opened her door, slid out into the stronger current of the river water. The bottom was fortunately firm and sandy rather than soft and mucky, but it was still a monumental effort to get out of the half-submerged vehicle. Every movement of her lower half wrung an involuntary cry of pain from her; brought another trickle of blood down her inner thighs. She paused for a moment on her knees on a large, slippery, green-covered rock. She was in agony and lightheaded, probably from shock and blood loss, but she knew she couldn't afford to pass out. _If I pass out now I might never wake up again. And neither will he._ She closed her eyes for a second. _Let's see…what did he say? 'Don't hold your breath, you'll cut off the oxygen supply and send my brain into a panic'? Well, something like that. Deep breaths, he said. Okay, deep breathing I can do. Like Alex and I at yoga. In. Out. In. Out. Hey, that does feel better._

She had to stop several times just to concentrate on breathing when agony grew so sharp she thought she'd black out, but after what seemed like an eternity of struggle and almost unbearable pain, she crawled across the hood of the jeep and got to his side door. It was too deep on his side for her to feel the bottom, and the agony of treading water made her cry, but the cold of the water had started to seep into her body and helped to numb the pain. Just a little.

_If I get too numb it'll be hypothermia. I can't let that happen._ She deliberately bit down on her lip; the sudden small pain helped push the cobwebs of fatigue from her mind…for the moment. "Clayton. Come on, sweetheart, we have to go," she said as she opened the door…and gasped when she saw his lower left leg. "Oh Christ." Compound fracture; she could see a jagged edge of bone there. She felt tears spring to her eyes; not tears of pain, but despair. She could barely stay afloat right now; she was in so much pain, dear God, how was she going to get him out too? It was getting darker by the minute, and pretty soon she wouldn't be able to see anything. That, and…she didn't know where they were, but it looked fairly wild. Would there be something in the water that would track their blood in the water and come to eat them? She'd watched this one B-movie one evening with Alex; they were drunk and feeling a little silly, and they'd put 'Piranha' on and had a grand time laughing at the cheesy improbability of it. But now, looking at the darkened river in what she fuzzily identified as jungle from documentaries watched on the science-based cable channels late in the evenings, those piranhas didn't seem so improbable.

_Stop. You'll drive yourself nuts. Let's get Clayton out. Oh God, this is gonna hurt… _She forced herself to keep breathing through the pain as Clayton had taught her as she unfastened his seatbelt and tried to shift him out of the seat. Every muscle in her body protested, and she heard herself half-crying, half screaming. _Oh God. I can't do this. I just can't. It hurts too much…oh God…_

He was taller than her, and proportionately heavily muscled. Even with the water taking a great deal of his weight, he was still heavier than she could handle easily, and she had to keep stopping to rest, to brace herself against the side of the vehicle and hold on as her overtaxed, exhausted, weakened body threatened to give up on her. _I can't do this, but oh God, I can't give up either…_

She would never remember afterward how she did it. Sheer will got her through the water towing Clayton after her, and she blanked out for a while as conscious memory shut down. The only thing she would remember afterward was little flashes of clear memory, frozen moments captured like photographs taken by her fuzzy brain.

Lying on that huge green boulder sticking out of the riverbed with Clayton's dead weight beside her.

Back in the water, sky fully dark.

Sharp rocks under her bare feet. A stray thought; Clayton's going to have scratches from those rocks…

Impact as her knees gave out under her, and she felt firm sand under her knees. Land.

Pulling Clayton's dead weight onto the sand beside her.

She was so cold, her clothes all but gone. Shivering as she curled up close to Clayton. Feeling her mind shut down as she gave in to the exhaustion, thirst and huger and agony and mind-numbing cold. _I tried, God, Clayton, please, forgive me, but I tried…_

He woke slowly.

The sun's warmth touched his face. He opened his eyes slowly; his head hurt, and his vision was blurry and dizzy, but _Jesus, that means I'm **alive**…_

And then he tried to move, and agony erupted in his lower left leg. Unspeakable, blinding pain. He heard himself cry out, bit his lip to stop the sudden sound. _If they're still looking for us…_

Olivia.

It took enormous effort to push himself up on one elbow, but he managed it, and looked around. The first thing he saw was the partially-submerged jeep still in the river, its doors open; saw the crooked, crazy drag-marks made by his body from the water's edge to where he lay now. And, beside that drag mark, the impressions of two smaller feet and knees, another person crawling up from the water. And he turned his head and saw Olivia lying on the sand next to him.

_Dear God she looks terrible Jesus she has to be in horrible pain I have to weigh half again what she does how the **hell** did she **do **it?_ But then he saw how pale she was, and terror stopped his heart in his chest as he dragged himself over to her, as he leaned over her, crying her name. "Liv…oh God, Liv…baby, please be okay…" she didn't respond as he shook her; frantic, he laid two fingers to the side of her neck and held his breath.

Relief washed over him as he felt her pulse. Weak, thready, but there. Just sleeping, then. Deeply, but sleeping. _And she's **cold**._ He looked at the way the Jeep landed. _Well, I did want to get her in the river as fast as possible. Not quite the way I would have done it, but it must have brought her core temperature down and avoided brain damage. But now she's hypothermic, or just on the edge of it. Her body's got to be confused as hell, hyperthermic yesterday, hypothermic today…have to make a fire, get both of us warm. The sun's just rising but it'll take a while to warm up. Christ, her clothes are practically gone… _and he could see her feet and hands, swollen and cut and gashed by the rocks from the riverbed, her knees scraped open and bleeding sluggishly, and he almost laughed a little hysterically as he thought _full circle, when I first met her that ended with her knees and hands skinned…_

He shrugged out of his heavy fatigue jacket, arranged it on top of her so that it covered as much of her as he could manage. Yanking off the off-duty khaki t-shirt under it, he spread that out on the sand to dry as he stripped off the white undershirt he always wore.

He dragged himself a short distance away, to a fallen tree probably broken when their jeep hit it with half the ravine wall; a sudden effort, and he had a thick wooden stick just long enough for a splint. He gritted his teeth against the howl of agony as he straightened his leg out and used the stick and strips of his shirt to create a makeshift splint, then lay on the sand for long moments and panted, using every last ounce of self-control and discipline he had to remember his pain endurance techniques.

_All right. Survival training: First need shelter. Then fire. This sandbar is going to be in full sun in a little while and Liv and I are going to be badly burned if we can't find shelter._

He scanned the shoreline around him, noticed a sort of overhang not too far away where the river had cut deeply into the valley wall and created a rocky overhang. _Looks like a nice sort of shallow cave under it. It's been partially buried by the rockslide caused when Velez's grenade blew the ledge, but that's good because it'll make it harder for anyone to find us. We're going to be here for a little while; neither she nor I are going to be able to go anywhere for at least a couple days. She's dealing with the aftermath of withdrawal and I had to go and break my damn leg…_

By the time the sun was high Clayton was stretched out on the floor of the rocky cave (which had fortunately showed no signs of being used as another animal's den) with Olivia beside him. He was too exhausted to try and make a fire now, and he knew it as he closed his eyes. His shirt had dried, laid out on the sand, and Olivia's shivers had abated when he pulled the sun-warmed fabric over her head. He'd left her on the sandbar just long enough to collect some scattered branches, then came back for her, dragged her into the cave and laid her down on the branches, then collapsed beside her with a groan. Lying on his side made his leg feel a little better, and he pillowed Liv's head on the inside of his elbow as he pulled his fatigue top over the both of them. It wasn't much, but it would serve to trap some of their body heat under it, and hopefully provide some warmth while Olivia's body equalized its core temperature.


	6. Chapter 68: SouthCom

**Chapter 68: SouthCom**

"Welcome to SouthCom."

The six Joes came to attention just inside the polished granite of the lobby of the huge building that served as the headquarters for US Southern Command. Before they'd left Joe HQ Scarlett had taken some time out from the intensive drilling she was putting both White Queen and Cover Girl through to explain that SouthCom HQ was the center of operations for all US military involvement in Latin and South America, and Chief General Hall was in command of all of that. It had been a bit of an eye opener for Alex, who, like most civilians, only had a very vague notion of just how extensive the US military's reach actually was.

_Where do you get funding for all this?_ It was John Munch's voice in the back of her head; she had to suppress a laugh, which would have been unseemly given that Chief General Hall was standing in front of her holding out his hand. She forced her attention back to what he was saying.

"…an honor to meet you, Private Cabot," he was saying as he held out his hand. "I have read the entire team's reports on the deplorable fiasco you were involved in and I have to say I am impressed with your courage, strong will, and fortitude. You embody the American fighting spirit that we look for in our soldiers, and even though I know that you chose a different career path, I hope that when this is all over you might consider becoming a member of our organization."

That rocked her. She'd been expecting those platitudes that she was really getting tired of hearing; how sorry they were that this had happened, how well she was recovering, okay, she understood that it was well meant but it was really getting old. She wanted to put it as far behind her as possible, focus on what she needed to do to get Liv and Clayton out. This man was the first one outside the Joe base who had understood that, had put aside the 'sorry' as being useless and nonproductive and focused instead on what had gotten her through it so far, and what would continue to get her through the rest of her recovery—because even though she'd gotten over her initial fear reaction, she still felt her body cringing slightly from the African American man standing in front of her.

And maybe he knew that, sensed that, on some level, because he was standing well outside her personal space, a thoughtful touch. "That…is a very generous offer, Sir," she said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly, then offering him a crisp military salute. "And I will consider it. But I will do so later, when this is over and I have Liv and Clayton—General Hawk—back."

"Fair enough. Focus on the task ahead of you. Very good, Private." His handshake was firm and warm, with just a hint of approving pressure behind it. "I shall look forward with anticipation to hearing your decision. In the meantime," he said, looking at the rest of the Joes, "Let me get all of you to the briefing room and bring you up to speed on our current readiness status."

"Wow. He likes you," Courtney said quietly to her as Alex fell into step beside her. "He's never been that effusive with anyone before."

"Don't be silly. He wasn't effusive. He's just acknowledging that I'm not really military."

Courtney gave her a 'you've got to be kidding' look, but didn't say anything further.

The briefing room, oddly enough, didn't look anything like what Alex had ever imagined the briefing room for an important military command post would look like. It wasn't even as well equipped as the Joes' briefing room at HQ. It was a small room with mostly bare walls, only one of which had anything on it, and what it did have was a giant map of Latin and South America. She felt a momentary urge to laugh; so much for John Munch's wild speculations of what military war rooms looked like!

The room was dominated by the huge white table in the middle of it; there were a few chairs, but these were mostly pushed back against the wall…and then Chief General Hall hit a switch somewhere at the head of the table, and suddenly a projection of the northern part of South America appeared, hovering a few inches above the tabletop. She bit her lip to keep back her gasp of awe; it was an awesome piece of technology! So much for not judging the room by what was in it.

Hall was speaking; she stopped admiring the technology and focused carefully on what he was using it to tell them. "Over the last couple of weeks, since the decision was made to apparently comply with Cesar Velez's demand, we have carefully moved about half of the personnel currently stationed at Manta Base in Ecuador quietly into Medellin and surrounding districts. Those sources have pinpointed Velez's base of operations, which is here in the Los Angeles neighborhood, or barrio, of Medellin City. There is a heavily-secured office building that serves as the focal point for the 'front' for Velez's business; working in connection with the FBI and ATF, we have determined that here is where rich 'clients' come to 'inspect' the human merchandise that Velez has his business partners sneak out of the DRC and other war-torn countries."

"His human trafficking warehouse," Alex said, realization dawning as she looked at the holographic projection of the building.

"Correct. An FBI undercover operative went in there presumably to look at the merchandise and brought back a pretty clear report of an actual trafficking auction. We have persuaded them not to take any action at the moment; they will coordinate their strike with us. As soon as we know that your mission is successful and Velez has been eliminated, they will strike at the heart of this trafficking operation and put an end to it."

The map moved to show a different neighborhood of Medellin. "Here is the Olaya Hererra Domestic airport. It is a small airport, offering only local, in-Colombia flights; because of its size and lack of international flights, it has been mostly ignored and overlooked. I am pleased to tell you that as a direct result of the discovery of General Clancy's duplicity and self-serving treasonous actions, the ATF has rectified that oversight and has identified a warehouse in which massive stockpiles of illegal weapons and drugs are being manufactured, prepared for transport, and quietly exported. This warehouse is a major hub of the Colombian drug trade; since it has gone undiscovered for so long, some of the smaller cartels like the Cali cartel have been quietly shipping a small portion of their product with Velez's product…no doubt at exorbitant, extortionate costs, but that is apparently the existing agreement. By shutting down this hub we can cripple the Colombian drug trade for a very long time, perhaps even into the next decade."

He straightened, looking at them over the map. "You are not to worry about these simultaneous operations. No movement will be made on any of these hubs by the respective agency under whose purview they fall under. If your mission is successful and Velez is eliminated, only then will the aforementioned agencies move in what will be a massive, coordinated strike designed to hit the Medellin cartel at the same time. Think of this as attacking a large venomous snake; your assignment is to strike at the head, and as soon as you have done that we will dissect the body until there is nothing left." He nodded to Alex, seeing the question in her eyes. "Yes, Private Cabot?"

"Sir…when you said Velez is to be eliminated…what did you mean exactly?"

"I meant what I said, Private. Eliminated. Removed from the picture. He is marked for termination, and every effort should be made to accomplish that goal."

"But…aren't we killing in cold blood?"

He turned his full attention on her…and she knew what Courtney had said about his being effusive, because there was nothing of that quietly proud, thoughtful man in this one now drilling holes into her with hard eyes. She forced herself to straighten her back, to stiffen her spine and resolve and say what she was thinking. "Sir. I have as much desire to see him dead as anyone here. More, even. He has taken _everything_ away from me; my peace of mind, my sense of security, my health, my home, my life as a lawyer, everything—I have been declared dead by his co-conspirator in the UN, my social security number—and along with it my law license—has been deactivated, and he has even emptied my bank account so I have nothing to start over with." Oh, that hurt. "He has struck at me countless times, caused me unimaginable pain in the most heinous of ways, hurt my friends, kidnapped my best friend." An image of Olivia screaming from electric current flashed through her mind. "And yet, despite what he has conspired to do to me, has done to my friends, and continues to do to countless other civilians all around the world as a direct and indirect result of his illegal operations, I hesitate to murder him in cold blood. To do so would make me, and us, no better than he is."

"Even if this is in the interests of the greater good?" Hall studied her through the glowing lines of the holographic map; the room was silent.

"Even if. _Especially_ if," Alex said, and her voice rang with conviction. "In my experience, Chief General, the ends don't justify the means. Summary justice dealt Velez with a bullet in the dark, with an assassin's knife, will not achieve the end we want; it will not cause a collapse of the cartel and the illegal activities it supports. By making Velez a martyr we will feed the frenzy and leave a vacuum in which another just like Velez will rise to power."

"What do you propose?"

She took a deep breath. "Capture him if at all possible. Hunt him down, track him down, with every means at our disposal. And when we have him, offer him surrender, offer him true justice instead of the vigilante's bullet. To sink to his level and murder him in cold blood will mean that he has won, that he has succeeded in bringing all of us down to his level." Her face contorted in hatred and fury as she snarled, "_I will __**not **__let him win_."

"But if we offer him surrender, offer him international justice, he will sit in prison for months, perhaps years, before he is brought to trial. And in that time he may strike at you again."

"No. He won't. If the White Queen takes the Black King, he will be defeated, not just physically, but mentally, psychologically. This has been, all along, not only a physical chess game between him and I, but also a mental one. By concocting this elaborate scheme to trap me in an unsurvivable situation in the DRC, he played his last, best gambit, the strategy that should have ended with the death of the White Queen and the end of the game. And that gambit failed. That was why he kidnapped Olivia and Clayton; that was why he came to New York to capture the one person in the world he knows would care if I lived or died. It is a move of desperation; he can think of no other way to bring the game to a close. This is the endgame, and even if we both survive, there will be a clear winner and a clear defeat. And I do not intend to be the loser."

She spread her hands. "We have here the greatest weapons we can use against him; love, friendship, comradeship in arms, honor, respect, and compassion. Velez is so egocentric that he cannot understand what love and friendship and faith in each other can do. He doesn't even know they exist because he's never felt them. And because he doesn't know what these weapons are, he can't counter them. At this moment I will bet he is confused; he doesn't know why these people, your soldiers, would have defied orders to bring me back; he doesn't know why his plan failed. He believes I will tell him why, when we see each other again; and I will, I'll tell him it's because of love, justice, human morality, fairness, and above all, honor. But he will not understand, and in failing to understand he will lose. And he will know that, and that is the defeat that I am seeking, that is the defeat I want. Not the physical defeat, but the mental one. I want him to acknowledge that his way is not the best one, that the best road to winning is love and honor. But in order to truly achieve that win we must display that honor ourselves." She stopped speaking…and then snapped into a stiff military salute.

There was silence in the room. No one spoke. And then, very deliberately, Ettienne left the spot where he'd been standing at the holographic table and came around it, stopping in a flanking position behind Alex's right shoulder, and also saluted.

Snake Eyes stepped away from the table and flanked Alex's left shoulder. He didn't salute, but his gesture, fist pressed into the palm of the other hand, was far more ancient and said the same thing. Scarlett stepped up to stand beside him, choosing the military salute. Courtney and Beach Head followed suit.

"So." Chief General Hall took a deep breath. "I take it from this that you all feel this way." No one moved. He sighed. "So be it. I can hardly argue with you—as you said, you have more right than anyone else here to want this man dead, and yet you plead for justice and mercy with the passion you most likely bring to the courtroom in New York. I am, more than ever, impressed—and I must admit to feeling a sense of foreboding that you may indeed take me up on my offer and choose to join the US military's JAG unit. God help us all."

His theatrical groan broke the tension and the ice, as did his broad grin, and everyone's mood lightened as they returned to looking at the projection table. "All right. Our operatives have located Cesar Velez's villa—it isn't in Medellin proper, but on the outskirts, in a town called Puerto Triunfo. It's a suburb of Medellin, about three hours from the city center, on the edge of a vast tourist preserve called the Rio Claro National Park. The operatives are currently working undercover on various jobs around the preserve; my jungle specialists as park rangers, recon specialists as tour guides, SEALs as river rafting experts. Should you need one or all of those disciplines, the password is Hill. Mention that word in conversation, and the countersign is Chief. If you do not hear the countersign the person is not one of us; find one who is.

"You'll get on a civilian non-stop flight here at Miami International and will land in three hours in Medellin, at Jose Maria Cordova International Airport. I've arranged for lodgings for you; there are two suites at the Hotel Dann Carlton in Medellin, one for the female members of the team, one for the male members— although," he said thoughtfully as he saw Ettienne's hand curled around Alex's fingers, "If you choose to…make your own arrangements…there is certainly enough space at the hotel to accommodate you."

He smiled, then returned to business. "You'll wait for Velez to contact you. We have detected monitoring on General Hawk's personal communications line; we can only assume that when General Hawk set it up the first time Velez captured the procedure just for this occasion. However, there is no indication that he is aware that the coded frequency might go to other secret military installations, so that frequency has been carefully isolated and the codes changed across the country to prevent any accidental tapping-in. I'm sure Interim Commander Faireborn gave you the two marked satphones and instructions?" They all nodded. "Then we are as prepared as we will ever be. Godspeed, and good luck." Then as something occurred to him, he said, "Go with honor."

"With honor!" they chorused back.


	7. Chapter 69: Scars

**Chapter 69: Scars**

"Jesus friggin' Christ on a crutch, Alex!"

Alex frowned as she rolled over on the bed, watching as Shana brushed out her wet hair in the mirror and Courtney stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed and toweling water out of hers. "What did I do now?"

They'd landed in Medellin without incident. After one of the most exhausting days Alex had felt in a long while, they'd all wanted to just shower, eat, and rest. The desire had been so strong that they hadn't even had the energy to try and haggle an extra room out of the hotel so that Scarlett and Snake Eyes could have one room, Cover Girl and Beach Head could have the second, and White Queen and Gung Ho could have the third; the three guys had the room adjoining theirs, and the girls had taken this one, and the first thing the three agreed on was that they wanted a shower and some hot food. Two-thirds of the trio—Courtney and Shana—had unanimously decided that Alex should shower first; Alex had protested, but they both ranked her after all, and she'd definitely been outvoted as well. So she was lying on her stomach on one of the beds, looking at the room service menu, deciding what she wanted as first Shana, then Courtney, took their turns.

Now she frowned at Courtney's expletive. "What did I do now?" She'd privately come to the conclusion that Courtney could be a little bit of a drama queen; she tended to get excited over little things. It was hardly her fault; when you were young, everything seemed of monumental importance; it was only as you got older that you acquired some sense as to what was drama-worthy and what wasn't. Courtney simply hadn't reached that point in her maturity yet, but fortunately she wasn't annoying; it could be slightly comical sometimes.

"You know perfectly well what." Courtney bounced a little as she sat on the third bed. "Chief General Hill."

"Actually, Court, she probably doesn't. Remember, she's never met him before." Shana turned around from where she sat in a chair in front of the mirror, braiding her long red hair into a single braid down her back. "What Courtney's trying to say, Alex, is that we've never seen Chief General Hill that impressed with a woman before, much less a civilian. You really made an impression on him."

"All that stuff about love and friendship and compassion…" Courtney grinned as she picked up another menu and opened it. "You did mean it, right?"

"Of course I meant it!" Alex sat cross-legged on the bed, frowning. "Cesar has no idea what love is. If he'd been a reasoning, sane human being, when we ran into each other than night in the ICC he would have recognized it. He fell in love with me, but because he doesn't understand it, can't accept it, it's turned into an obsession. And then his self-centeredness turned it down a darker channel, where he wanted to see me broken."

"You've done a lot of thinking." Shana smiled as she sat down on the next bed and also picked up a menu.

"There kinda wasn't much else to do while I was recovering. At first all I could think of was pain, and then just keeping the guys away from me, but after Clancy insulted me I started thinking about the motivations behind everything, why everyone around me was doing what they did." She saw their looks. "I'm a lawyer. I have to dissect people emotionally and mentally."

"So do you do that to yourself?"

Alex shrugged, stared down at the bedspread, fiddled with a stray thread. "Yeah. I did."

"'To hold as 'twere/the mirror up to nature/To show virtue her feature/Scorn her own image…'" Shana said quietly.

"Hamlet," Alex identified, and Shana's head jerked up, startled. She met Alex's blue eyes, and they both shared a smile. "But yes, I've done a bit of soul searching myself, examining my reasons and motives up 'til now."

"And what have you found?" Shana asked.

"I am not a good person."

"Are too," Courtney insisted from where she sat.

"No. I'm not. I'm an average person. Selfish and self-centered, I have good intentions at heart but can't always follow through. This whole thing with Velez…if I'd been thinking about someone other than myself I'd have realized none of this made any sense. The whole mission Clancy proposed…If I'd been thinking rationally I would have walked out on him. After the first mission…when he talked me back into going, I was again thinking of myself, thinking about how terrified I was and how I wanted extra protection when I went back out. I didn't once stop to think about the soldiers who went out with me, who might be hurt or killed when I went back out. And Lady Jaye nearly got killed, and Flint…"

"Flint's fine," Courtney dismissed that with a wave of her hand, but Alex shook her head seriously.

"Yes, he's fine now, but it might come back to haunt him later. And Allie. After knowing that Dash…that I made him…that he'd been unfaithful to her…she's relieved now that she has him back but how long is it going to be before she starts to resent me?"

It was Scarlett's turn to shake her head. "Allie and I already had that conversation. And I'll tell you the same thing I told her when she wondered if you could let go of Dash after what he'd done for you. There's absolutely no question—Allie is, always has been, and always will be the only one for Dash. And vice versa." She took the menu from Alex's hands so that Alex wouldn't have a reason not to look at her. "Both of you are being damned idiotic about this. Yes, guys are thickheaded. Joe males are no exception. But they are slightly _less_ thickheaded than most men, and so are easier to reason with." She grinned, then. "With one exception. _My_ male is definitely smarter than both of yours."

Courtney threw a pillow at her. Shana giggled and threw it back. Minutes later there was a storm of shrieks and giggles and feathers were flying as the down pillows on the beds were used as ammunition.

None of the three girls noticed when the adjoining door between their rooms and the guys' room opened. Three male heads peeked around the doorframe. "Think they're done arguing over which one of us is smarter?" Beach Head asked.

Ettienne snorted. "That argument's never over. It's a girl thing."

"Hey!" Courtney had noticed them watching, and stood now with her blue eyes snapping, hands on her hips. "You guys never stop arguing over whose girl is smarter and prettier—"

"And can kick the most ass—" Scarlett was standing on the bed with a pillow in her hand, daring Snake Eyes to disagree with her.

"Uh uh." Ettienne strode into the room, ignoring feathers and everything else as he caught Alex up in his arms, swept her off her feet, and kissed her, putting on his thick Cajun accent. "Don' never need to argue. Alex has you all beat."

"Ah. Well. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as they say." Beach Head wrapped his arms around Courtney.

Snake Eyes crossed the room, ignoring the clouds of feathers, and lifted Scarlett effortlessly off the bed. _Then my eyes are the only ones that count._

"Yes they are." Scarlett hugged him closely and sighed.

They were all distracted by the sound of the door to the suite opening. A maid stood there. At the sight of the room, her face grew pinched, and Alex felt immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. We'll clean it up, don't worry," she addressed the woman in Spanish. The maid's eyes widened, and she started at Alex, face white.

Alex paused, startled by the woman's obvious distress. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He woman pointed with a shaking finger at Alex's shoulders, and Alex turned bright pink as she realized what the woman was looking at. Her scars, while faded from their original angry red, were still visible as thin dark-pink lines against her fair skin, and to anyone not used to looking at her, they would look terrible. She'd gotten so used to being with the Joes, and they all knew what she looked like, that after her shower she'd changed into running shorts and a spaghetti-strap cami top. Now self-consciousness returned and she grabbed for a towel lying discarded on the floor as she ran for the bathroom, slamming the door.

She heard voices outside the bathroom as the others assured the maid that they would take care of the feathers in the suite, no, the woman was fine, she'd had a bad accident and they had brought her here to recover, thank you, and then the suite door closed and the voices stopped, and a hesitant hand tapped on the bathroom door. "Alex?"

Alex sat on the bathroom floor, lost in misery, silent tears running down her cheeks. She'd forgotten, for just a moment, that she was different, that she was no longer the same as every other human being on the planet. Now she looked down at herself, saw the scars on her body as the maid must have seen them. And with a convulsive sob she stood, tearing at the shorts, ripping them off her hips, grabbing handfuls of her top, tearing at it too.

"Alex! Alex, _non,_ _cherie,_ don't…" Ettienne was inside, catching her wrist as she tore a handful of fabric from her shoulder, and she collapsed against him, crying.

"Don't…don't tell me it's okay, it's not, it'll never be okay, she…she looked at me and just…" Alex buried her face in his chest, sobbed. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Courtney hold out a fistful of cloth. Another shirt and pants to replace the clothes Alex had just torn off her own body.

He turned his head slightly, to nod his thanks, and he saw Beach Head, Scarlett, Cover Girl, and Snake Eyes standing in the doorway. Courtney and Shana had seen Alex on the plane ride back, and at different times during her recovery. No surprise there. Snake Eyes had seen worse, on his own face after the accident.

But Beach Head hadn't seen Alex before. He'd known when she came in that she was in bad shape, but hadn't been as intimately involved with her recovery as the others had. And so as he looked at Alex standing there in Ettienne's arms, he saw for the first time the red scars of whip lashes on her calves, inner and outer thighs, disappearing into the thin panties she wore, and then starting at the waistband of those panties and continuing up her back, getting particularly thick around her shoulders, and finally terminating in the hairline at the back of her neck. Ettienne saw his lips shape a swearword, saw Courtney, bless her heart, slap a hand firmly over his mouth and bodily haul him away from the door, and then Scarlett and Snake Eyes respectfully withdrew and allowed Ettienne to close the door.

"I'm not going to say it's okay, Alex. But it'll get better. Those scars will fade." And he cursed suddenly, as he remembered something. "Courtney—she gave me this lotion, to rub on your skin twice daily, to make the scars fade faster. I forgot about it with everything else that's going on, but I still have it. I'll give it to you and help you put it on, and hopefully this stuff works and they won't be as obvious."

"Hopefully it works?" Alex sniffled tearfully, and took the shirt he handed her. A white t-shirt, with sleeves that came to her elbow, and Army off-duty olive pants. They would hide all her scars from the outside world, but he knew they were still inside her, scars on her soul, and there was no lotion or cream that would make those go away. Only time and love.

He was willing to give her both, as much as she needed.

"Courtney says models and actresses use it to minimize stretch marks and scars after surgery. If they use it, I suppose it helps."

"How can you love me now that I'm that ugly?" she whispered.

"Hey." He captured her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. "Remember dat argument you had wit' de girls, dat beauty is in de eye of de beholder? It's in mine, den. I don't see scars, Alex. I see someone who was so strong-willed and so determined dat she survived the incident dat put all dose scars on her body. And she's so beautiful, inside and out, dat she would plead wit' de General of de whole Sout'ern Hemisphere to not murder de man who did it in cold blood. Dat's what I see, Alex. Dat's who I'm in love wit'." He kissed her lips, gently used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the last traces of tears on her cheeks. "Come on. Let's go get you something to eat, maybe then you'll start talking sense."

Scarlett was shaking her head as she sat on her bed, absently brushing feathers off the bedspread. "Christ. It never occurred to me that other people might be shocked at how she looked. I just got so used to seeing her…"

_It's not your fault._

"I should have been paying attention, Snake Eyes. I'm second in command on this mission."

_It's not your fault._

"I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

_No. That doesn't deserve a win._

"You know, you can be so thickheaded sometimes!"

_You only say that when I'm right._

Scarlett stared at him for a moment, then broke into a laugh.

_Good. Now come on, I think we should try and get this cleaned up so no more maids come in and overreact._ He started gathering feathers and stuffing them back into the empty pillowcases.

Courtney yanked Beach Head firmly through the adjoining door into the guys' suite, closed it quietly, and stood facing him, hands on her hips. "She's just managed to get back some semblance of normalcy. She stopped being quite so self-conscious about the way she looks. And now some idiot maid has to go and remind her that she looks different after Shana and Allie and I spent so much time trying to build her self-confidence back up. I _know _you weren't about to say something about her looks."

Beach Head shrugged uncomfortably. "I was taken by surprise. I didn't expect to see…what I saw."

"You knew she was in bad shape when she came in. You knew. You walked in on me kicking the oil pans around the garage, for shit's sake! How could you be surprised?"

"When she came in she was wearing your spare fatigues and what I saw, and reacted to, was the blood everywhere. When I braced you in the garage I was thinking about you, not her. It wasn't till just now that I really saw her. Jesus, she looks like a concentration camp survivor, she's so skinny! And then I saw the scars. Court, no one could be prepared to see that much damage on anyone's body." His voice softened. "And…she looks so much like you, you two even have your hair cut the same now…I look at her and I see you, and the thought of you with that many scars…I want to go out and kill someone. I don't know how Ettienne can be so patient and forgiving, because if I were him, and Alex were you, I would be out there in the jungle right now looking for that bastard so I could hurt him the way he'd hurt you." His hands clenched into fists. "I'm sorry, I can't help the way I feel."

"I love you." Courtney hugged him hard, gave him a kiss, then curled her arm around him; he hugged her back, and they stood for a moment. "Just…promise me you won't say anything to Alex. She's fragile enough as it is."

"Deal." Beachhead nodded. "All right. The guys and I were talking and we'd like to take you ladies out to dinner. Not only because we need to increase our visibility so that Velez knows we're here and can contact HQ to let us know what his next steps are, but also because we thought something normal might help Alex feel a little better. This has all got to be very strange for her."

"You got that right. She seems to be adjusting well so far but I think sooner or later all of this is going to catch up with her. She's under a tremendous amount of stress right now, dealing with her recovery, her girlfriend's kidnapping, having to learn a whole new way of walking, talking, even thinking, just to blend in with us. She's been a trooper so far but the stress is why she's so skinny."

He looked at her searchingly. "You sound like Scarlett."

Courtney laughed. "Must be contagious. Come on, let's figure out where to go to eat. And then give us girls time to get dressed."


	8. Chapter 70: Entanglements

**Chapter 70: Entanglement**

Awareness returned. And with it, pain. Her entire body was screaming with it; it felt like every muscle and nerve was firing all at once. She was trying to hold it back, obeying some inner prompting that told her she couldn't scream, that there was an important reason why she couldn't give voice to the agony she was feeling even though her coherent, conscious mind didn't have a reason for silence. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to breathe as Clayton had told her.

"Easy, baby. Focus on breathing. I know it hurts, Jesus, I'm feeling it too, but we can't let Velez's men find us."

"Clayton?" she half-whispered, half whimpered as she tried to find him in the darkness with blurry eyes. "It's night, and that fire isn't really bright. I can't see you."

"I'm right here. No, don't move. Just lie still." A sound of rustling cloth, then a gentle touch of a warm, strong, calloused hand on her arm. The first touch she'd felt in what seemed like forever that didn't hurt, and she felt tears on her cheeks. "Liv…I didn't hurt you, did I?" the hand withdrew.

"No, no, please…" she groped blindly for the hand, and the hand returned. She took it in her own, clutching it firmly. "Please…it's the first time in a couple of weeks that someone touched me and it didn't hurt."

She couldn't think of any way to explain it better than that, but Clayton must have understood, because he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. A moment later she felt him shift his body closer to hers, forming a solid, warm, comforting presence at her back. She gave a soft sob and tried to move closer.

"I'm right here. It's okay, I'm not leaving. Try to relax; the tenser you get the more your muscles will hurt. And stay still; you're still bleeding and I want to try to avoid aggravating that."

"Bleeding…"she finally forced gritty, aching eyes open

His voice was gentle. "Between your legs." She started to move, sucking in sharp breaths as she tried to touch herself, to figure out where she hurt the most. He caught her hand. "No. Don't. I have my fatigue jacket wadded between your legs to try and stop the bleeding. If you move you'll release the pressure and you could tear even more."

"It didn't hurt this much when we were back at the villa." She finally turned to look at Clayton, lying with his chest pressed against her back, sharing their body heat.

He smiled ruefully. "Well, Sandra _was_ pumping you full of drugs. I'm willing to bet that helped a bit."

"Yes, it did." Then she caught her breath. "But…pleasure can become pain. I heard that but I never really knew what it felt like." She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, tried to focus on something else. "Where are we?"

"I'm not sure. By a river somewhere. Not that far from Velez's villa; that's why I'm keeping the fire low. I was worried when you woke up you'd be in so much pain you'd scream."

"I wanted to. Christ, I wanted to. Something just told me I shouldn't, though." She took a deep ragged breath. "So what's next?"

Clayton blew out his breath. "I'm not entirely sure."

She heard the uncertainty in his voice. "You, the great General, aren't entirely sure? Now I know we're in trouble."

His chest heaved with his chuckle. "Smart ass." He sobered. "But seriously, Liv, I don't know what our next step is. You're in pain and bleeding, I have a broken leg and a bullet wound in my side. Neither one of us is in any shape to try and find a way out of here. The first instinct in a situation like this would be to go and find help, but this close to his home chances are pretty good that whoever we find will either be one of his people or at least know him, and we definitely won't survive a return trip to Hotel Velez. And right now we have the basics of what we need for survival; we have shelter, there's a small spring for water in the back of this cave, and the overhang cutout right there lets us build a fire and lets the smoke escape. There's plenty of dead dry wood around to provide fuel; apparently this overhang only fills when the rainy season starts. The only thing we don't have here is food."

"It's okay for now. I don't feel much like eating." Olivia lay back, thinking.

"I didn't think you would, but we're going to have to figure something out eventually. How's the withdrawal?"

She closed her eyes, did a quick self-inspection. "I think I'm okay. Nothing hurts now except between my legs and every muscle in my body is screaming."

"That's from the electricity. Give it another day or so and the worst of it will wear off."

She hesitated, but she had to ask. "Clayton…you wadded these fatigues between my legs…how bad is it?"

"Nowhere near as bad as Alex looked. There's some—tearing, both front and…and back—but I think the damage is mostly internal. I…didn't look too closely."

"And you?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, with a bullet in your side and a broken leg. I saw that leg when I opened the jeep door."

"Speaking of which…Liv, how did you get me out? You were in so much pain and bleeding and the withdrawal had to be a bitch…how did you do it?"

"I don't know. It might just be the drugs but my memory kind of shuts down a bit. I just…did."

"Well, just in case I forget later…thank you for saving my life."

"Thank you for saving mine."

She lay still for another minute, breathing deeply. "Thank you also for telling me all that stuff about pain endurance and survival. It really helped. Both at the villa and now. In fact…" gritting her teeth against the pain, she levered herself to a sitting position, panted shallowly as she waited for the sudden flare of pain to subside.

"I told you to stay down." But there was no ire in his voice.

Olivia actually found the wherewithal to grin at him. "You sound like Don. My Captain."

"Do you listen to _him_ when he tells you to take it easy?"

"Um. Not really."

"And your partner?"

"Elliot does _not_ tell me what to do." Sharply.

Clayton chuckled. "You sound like one of my people. I have a base full of guys—I think at any given point we have about fifty officers at base, thirty-something recruits. And I have three girls. Allie, Shana, and Courtney, and they sound just like you. Must be a girl thing."

"Chauvinist." Olivia smiled at him. "Come on. Sit back against the wall there and let me take a look at you. I know some basic first aid."

She tried to be gentle as she looked at the broken leg, probing carefully for any bumps in the bone that would have indicated that he hadn't set it right. "You put the splint on over top of your fatigues, so I can't really tell," she said finally. "But it feels like you've gotten that straight and I guess the fabric sort of provides a clotting agent, am I right? Not to mention which, it'll keep the leg clean underneath and reduce the chance of infection."

"Right," he managed through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart—Clayton. I know that hurt, but if we're going to try and get out of here, out of the immediate vicinity of Velez's house, we have to try and get into some sort of shape to move."

He was leaning with his back against the rocky wall of the tiny cave, eyes closed. "Say that again," he said.

"Huh? We have to try and move before Velez comes to find us—"

"No. Not that. What you said before."

"I'm sorry?" She looked at him, confused.

"Right after that." He opened one eye.

Understanding dawned. "Sweetheart."

He closed his eyes and let his head loll back on his neck. "Yep. That."

She saw the smile that crept across his face. "I take it you don't hear that often."

"Right."

"Lonely at the top?" She dragged herself over to the rock wall, sitting beside him.

"Mmm. You could say that. There aren't that many women at my rank, and I definitely can't fraternize below it."

Olivia frowned. "But…isn't Dash ranked higher than Allie? And they're okay."

He sighed and opened his eye, looking at the rocky ceiling and trying to figure out how to explain this to a non-Joe. "Every person at that base has been hand-picked by me. And one of the criteria I base my decisions on is whether they're 'attached'. If they have a significant other who is non-military I rule them out, no matter how good their skills are." He saw her look. "No, it's not prejudice. It's because we are a very high-stress, high mortality unit. To be one of our elite, you have to be able to focus on what's at hand, and having an outside entanglement, worrying about who will mourn you if you don't come back, that can, and has, gotten soldiers killed. So I pick those who have no outside entanglements, no one who will distract them from their mission goals. I hesitated for a long time about bringing any women on base; I didn't want them to be a distraction, and I didn't want them to have affections outside of base that I had to worry about. But then I met Shana, and she just blew me out of the water. Her focus, concentration, her emotionlessness, was what made me give her a try—that and she was easily the equal in hand-to-hand of everyone on base except Snake Eyes.

"And then I found out she'd been in a prior relationship with Conrad. Back at Fort Benning when they were both going through Ranger school. And somewhere along the way she'd gotten into a relationship with Snake Eyes, our resident hand-to-hand combat expert, right under my nose and I didn't even see it. When I found out about it and I braced Shana, she told me she'd been seeing him for half a year, so what was the big deal? I told her that I was worried it would affect their performance, that they wouldn't be able to separate their personal feelings if one had to go into a dangerous situation without the other, and she looked at me like I was an idiot and said, 'It hasn't affected our performance yet, what makes you think it's going to start doing so now?' And I realized I _was _being an idiot, because in the last six months there had been one mission she nearly didn't come back from—and two where he almost didn't."

Olivia was silent for a moment. "But she had a former relationship with Conrad."

"Yeah. And I thought there would be hard feelings, but there wasn't. Duke accepted that she had a right to choose who she wanted to be with, and after Snake Eyes nearly died to protect her in the helicopter crash, she chose him. And it didn't affect their performance, and Shana and Snake Eyes are both Master Sergeants.. I actually thought that Shana and Snake Eyes' relationship was going to be a quick thing, but that 'quick thing' has now gone on for years and I've accepted that at some point they will probably get married and either leave the service or he'll find a post somewhere to share with her. She's a bit of an enigma; there's a great deal even I don't know about her past and her training, and she won't talk about it, naturally. So when I brought Allie onto the team and she showed a preference for Dash, I let it go. And then there's Courtney—she's had an on-again,off-again thing with Beach Head, and in between been 'an item' with Shipwreck and Ripcord, and Beach Head accepts it with equanimity, so I basically leave them alone."

"So why is it okay for them to be involved with each other but not you? I'm sorry, I still don't understand."

"I'm their commander. I have to be fair and impartial, and I have to avoid even the appearance of favoritism."

"So why can't you find someone outside the military?"

"The outside entanglement rule—"

"Which _you _imposed. It doesn't sound like it's a hard and fast rule; it sounds like it makes their jobs easier by letting them focus on their job, but it's not an official rule. And besides, you're a General. You don't go out in the field, you're a desk jockey like Don. Any significant other you might have isn't going to be seeing you go off into danger. Given the security at your base, the only threat you could face is if a large private force or some international terrorist organization figures out where you are and comes to attack you with all their guns blazing."

He'd never thought of it like that before. "I can't ask my soldiers to adhere to a rule that I don't follow myself," he said.

"Do your soldiers go off-base?" she challenged him directly.

"Yes."

"If Shana got away with seeing Snake Eyes for six months before you found out about it, how likely is it that some of your soldiers are seeing someone off-base? Where you can't see what they're doing? You didn't even know Ettienne had the precinct staked out."

He stopped. "I guess it is likely." he finally admitted.

"You know, Clayton, I get that you have a group of trained elite soldiers, mostly guys, and you recruit them single for a reason. But you also have to remember that they're human, and they have feelings and needs and wants and desires, and sorry, but a job doesn't cut it completely. Added to that, they work at a top secret base, so that means they're awfully good at keeping secrets—and when you look at the big picture I'm pretty sure half of your guys are in long-term off-base relationships that you don't know about."

"Um." Now that she mentioned it… "Some of the guys do have pictures in their wallets that didn't come from one-night stands."

"And I'll bet they didn't pay for those either." Olivia shook her head. "Think about it, Clayton. Anyone who goes into a relationship with a soldier knows there's a chance that soldier might not come back one day. And they accept that so they can be with that soldier." And, softer, "How many guys have you lost on missions over the years might have had 'outside entanglements' that never even knew what happened to them?"

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He couldn't think of anything to say.

"You can't tell your soldiers who they can and can't fall in love with, Clayton. You have no right. They are your soldiers. They work for you, but you don't own them. So think about this: are you imposing that rule because going to that significant other and telling them the one they love isn't coming back is the hardest part about being a commanding officer and you just don't want to have to do that?"

"I…I don't…" he was floundering.

"If Alex and Ettienne decide they like each other enough after this mission to continue seeing each other, are you going to 'fire' Ettiennne by transferring him somewhere else?"

He didn't even think about what he was saying. "Of course not."

"Why not? How is Alex different from any other outside entanglement?"

"Well…she's…She knows the risks."

"And so did every other outside entanglement. You're not making a good case here, Clayton." Silence for a moment. Then, "Either you lied to me back there in the restaurant about being interested and wanting to get to know me better or you're interested for the wrong reasons. Well, I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to get to know you better, but if I'm going to be just another unwelcome 'outside entanglement', you can forget I called you sweetheart." She got up with a pained grunt, ignoring the blood-stained fatigues that he had carefully tucked between her thighs, and lay back down on the bed of jungle greenery he'd constructed for them on the cave floor.


	9. Chapter 71: Lessons

**Chapter 71: Lessons**

_Jesus friggin' Christ._

_But you only have yourself to blame, Clayton,_ a little voice inside his head told him. _She's absolutely right. That rule isn't an official 'on the books' rule, and it hasn't been followed in recent years. More in its breach than in its keeping; it's an open secret that Dash and Allie sneak into each other's quarters regularly –rather more often into Allie's because the women's wing is much less populated and therefore slightly more private. And you know yourself that Shana and Snake Eyes aren't just meditating at two in the morning in that dojo, not with the door locked!_

_Granted, we can't have families living at Joe base, so it made sense to recruit singles…but that didn't mean I had to practically forbid off-base relationships! Everybody knows we can't have civilians on base, but there was no reason why they couldn't have a family living in New York City, or elsewhere in Staten Island so long as that family knew their soldier works at a high security facility and visiting isn't an option. And anyone who gets involved with a soldier knows there's always a chance the soldier won't come back, so it's not like they aren't aware of the dangers. In fact, since my guys don't get deployed, the Joes' situation is an ideal one for long-term relationships. We go on missions, but not like the year to year-and-a-half deployment of the regular Army. Shana and Snake Eyes' month at the ICC was fairly long in comparison to one of our usual missions._

_So is Liv right? Did I impose that rule just because I don't want to have to tell someone that the person they love isn't coming back? Have I unconsciously showed favoritism toward Allie and Shana and Courtney by letting them have relationships within base, then basically told the guys not to have theirs outside of it?_

_But those relationships have been good for the team. Shana and Snake Eyes together are unbeatable. And Dash and Allie…let's face it, they're eventually going to get married, what they have is more than a quick thing, and that close bond they share has gotten them both out of trouble on more than one occasion._

_If Alex and Ettienne continue seeing each other after this mission, am I going to transfer Ettienne? No, I'm not. But Liv's right, how is that different from anyone else having an off-base other?_

He studied her, lying on her side there on the bed of greenery. And then it hit him. _Jesus, Clayton, you friggin' asshole! She's been captured, tortured, she's in pain and bleeding and hurting and exhausted and you basically just told her she's an unwelcome distraction!_ After the way she'd grabbed his hand, seeking the comfort of his touch after two weeks of nothing but pain…and he had to go and hurt her like that.

"Liv, baby…" he shifted his bulk, ignoring the pain, until he could sit behind her.

"Don't say that." Her voice was muffled and she refused to look at him, confirming his suspicion that he'd hurt her feelings deeply. "Don't say that unless you mean it."

"I _do_ mean it," he insisted, and realized as he said it that it was true. "You were right, and I have been selfish. I don't like telling people the person they love isn't coming back. I hate it. And when I was given this command, was told I could hand-pick my people, I tried to justify my choice only of single guys by telling myself that I did it because we can't have civilians on base. It was easier to tell them they can't have off-base relationships than to have to tell someone else that the person they love isn't coming back. Allie, Shana, Courtney…the relationships they've formed have been good for the team; there are a number of instances when Dash wouldn't have come back if Allie hadn't been with him, Shipwreck or Beach Head or Ripcord or any one of a number of the guys Courtney's casually dated—they might not have come back if they hadn't been watching each other's backs, and they take extra care of each other and of themselves knowing who would be hurt the most if they didn't come back. And Shana…with Snake Eyes beside her, any mission involving both of them is going to succeed because they're invincible together."

He paused for a moment, collected his thoughts. "I will not reassign Ettienne if he wants to continue seeing Alex after the immediate emergency is over. He's going to stay at Joe base. In fact, given Alex's current situation, she may end up staying at the base until she can start over—"

"What situation?" Olivia had rolled over quickly at that. He saw her eyes were still bright with unshed tears, but at least she was listening to him.

"Velez hacked into her bank account. Took all her money and closed it. Then because the UN declared her dead her law license and her Social Security number have also been deactivated. Her face when I found out and I told her…she just looked stunned."

"So the clothes I gave her is literally all she has." Olivia's voice was soft. "The son of a bitch really has taken everything from her.'

"No. He hasn't. He hasn't taken her stubbornness, her determination, her will, and her friends. He hasn't taken her life, and he hasn't taken away her capacity to love and be loved. I set up an account for her with the quartermaster; when she leaves she can draw her pay vouchers from the Army. It's not much but it will get her started again. And if it isn't…well, she's perfectly welcome to stay on base with us until she's back on her feet." He saw her look. "Liv. I'm not perfect. I can be," he paused as the girls' favorite adjective popped into his head, "a thickheaded male sometimes. But I'm also human. And I can, fortunately, admit when I'm wrong." Gently, "You were right. I have been using the outside entanglement rule to avoid having to tell someone that the soldier they love isn't coming back. One of the burdens of command that I have been trying very hard to avoid, and when I get back I'm going to have a talk with my girls. They're going to rake me over the coals—Allie, in particular, always was the most outspoken whenever I turned down another recruit for that reason. Oh, she's going to love this." He sighed.

Olivia's giggle broke into his reverie, as did the hand quietly coming up to hold his. "I have a spare bedroom in my apartment. Which you know. She's welcome to stay with me so you don't have to violate any more rules about civilians being on base."

"I was serious when I told you I wanted to get to know you better. I didn't expect I was going to see quite this much of you this quickly, but I have liked what I've seen so far. You're a tough, gutsy, strong beautiful woman, and I'm pleased that you're interested in me enough to want to see more of me. I see a lot in you that I see in my girls—Allie, Shana, Courtney—and a lot of what I see in Alex, too, and while I can't promise anything, if you can forgive a thickheaded old General his mistakes, I really would like to get to know you better."

She was quiet for a time. He was just starting to sweat when she gave a soft chuckle and said, "You're not good at apologies, are you?"

"Not really. Is it that obvious?" he said.

"Sort of. Yeah." She patted the greenery beside her. "Come on and lie down."

When he was comfortable, his body curled around hers so they could share body heat, she said, "Clayton, we are going to have to try and find some way out of here. And soon."

"I know. I just wanted you to be stable before we did that. When the sun comes up tomorrow morning let's see if we can figure out where we are and what to do from here."

Although he could tell that her stiff muscles still hurt like hell, she didn't utter a word of complaint as they left their rocky cave as soon as the sun had risen enough for them to see. The river burbled along in front of them, a broad, relatively shallow ribbon of clear water. There seemed to be a few places where it was deeper, and one of them was the hole where the jeep they'd been in had fallen.

"We were damned lucky," Clayton said, surveying the wreckage from where he was leaning on Olivia's shoulder. "Any deeper and we would have drowned. Any shallower and there wouldn't have been enough of you in the water to cool you down fast enough to avoid brain damage."

"Here. Can you sit down?" Olivia walked him over to a nearby boulder and helped him sit, then headed for the partially submerged jeep. "Liv!" he exclaimed.

"I want to see if there's any usable weapons in there," she said as she started wading out to the vehicle. "It's only deep on your side, it's not that deep on mine."

Despite his internal worry that the tears in her body might reopen from the activity, when she climbed out of the water a short time later carrying a .38 special she'd found in the glove box, he had to admit the find was worth the risk. _A weapon of any kind is an absolute must when faced with a situation when stranded behind enemy lines with no support_, said his training, and he was pleased that she'd thought to check the vehicle—and a little miffed that he hadn't thought of it first. "You know I'm supposed to be the survival expert here."

Hands on her hips, eyes flashing with temper. _Jesus, she really does remind me of Allie_. Except the wet t-shirt—_his_ wet t-shirt—clinging to every curve of her toned, supple body wouldn't have looked quite so gorgeous on Allie; Allie was pure military, with muscle and little body fat, and Olivia, while not being 'fat', had just enough in all the right places to give her some luscious curves. "Checking the vehicle for usable weapons isn't that advanced a survival tactic, General Abernathy, it's plain common sense. And it's not like you could go out there and check it, after all. Get over that 'I'm the big tough General and you're the meek little civilian' attitude, Clayton, and go soak your head in a bucket." As he started to laugh, surprised at her unexpected feistiness, she finished, "Never mind. I don't think they make a bucket big enough to fit your head into."

He almost fell off his rock laughing.

Her expression softened as she came to sit on the rock beside him. "You don't laugh like that often."

"No, I don't," he managed to get control of himself, wiping his eyes. "The job's pretty grim most of the time, there's very little humor in it. You pretty much have to develop a fairly dark sense of humor just to get by."

"Sounds like my job—" she started to say, and then froze and whirled, all in one movement, bringing the gun she'd found up. "Hold it! Freeze!" she called. "Come out of the trees, slowly, with your hands where I can see them!"

_Damn_ _it, we haven't even had a chance to see if that gun works_… Clayton struggled to a standing position, trying to stabilize himself on his uninjured leg so he could see who it was.

A young man, barely out of boyhood, came out of the treeline, hands raised in a placating, non-threatening gesture. "I'm not going to hurt you, ma'am," he said quietly.

"You speak English." Clayton's eyes narrowed speculatively.

"Yes, Sir." And to Olivia's complete surprise, the young man dropped one arm and raised the other in a crisp military salute. "Corporal Chris Simes, U.S. Army."

"What are you doing all the way out here, Corporal?" Clayton asked.

"A large force of us were sent out from Manta Base in Ecuador into Colombia to cover the main team of operatives planning some sort of an attack on a Colombian druglord who has hostages, sir."

"Main team of operatives?" Olivia turned to Clayton. "They must be coming to get us!"

The young Corporal goggled, "Sir…you're the hostages?"

"Not anymore. We managed to escape, but we're kind of in a bad position here…" Clayton gestured to his leg. As if on cue, it gave out under him, dumping him back on the rock. Olivia rushed to Clayton's side, but she kept one eye…and the gun…trained on Simes. The young Corporal made no threatening moves.

"I've heard your name before, Corporal," Clayton tried to figure out why the name sounded familiar. "Where were you posted before Ecuador?"

"Sir. My last posting was with a UN detachment in Africa, Sir, part of an international troop exchange. We did some work out in the Congo. There was a small force of American military out there with a wounded ICC lawyer."

Olivia went pale, but before she could say anything, Clayton said, "What was the name of the commander of that American force, Corporal?"

"First Sergeant Conrad Hauser, sir." Simes looked confused. "Sir…do you know Sergeant Hauser?"

"He's my third in command," Clayton smiled, and Olivia put the gun down as she saw his features relax from the tight frown.

"Sir…I know you probably can't tell me this, but…the blond lawyer—Alex Cabot, he said her name was…did she survive? I mean, the doctor at the African hospital told the UN commander that she'd died, and we were all ordered to go out to a mass grave and find her body, but…well, I found a black body bag with an orange x painted on it, and there were a couple of blond hairs caught in the zipper-I thought it might be hers, that the First Sergeant must have somehow colluded with the British doctor at the hospital to smuggle her out. So I weighted the bag and sank it in the nearest river so no one would know she wasn't in the graves. It took a week of looking through body bags and graves before the UN commander gave up searching for her, and he told us to not tell anyone that we hadn't found her; he told us to tell everyone that she was dead."

"And yet here you are violating that order." Clayton studied him speculatively. "You'll disobey orders because you don't like the person giving them?"

Simes drew himself up stiffly. "I lost respect for him when he yanked the sheet off her after he got her out of the helicopter. I know she was out of it and didn't feel anything but just stripping the sheet off her and exposing her like that in front of a bunch of strange soldiers—it was a bullshit thing to do. I asked for reassignment because I couldn't follow orders from a commander I couldn't respect and they gave me Manta base. And here I am."

"Well, since you're here…can you help us out, Corporal? Yes, we're the hostages that the operation is trying to get out. We did get ourselves out but we're injured and could use assistance. But we have to go fast and go quiet, Corporal; this is the druglord's backyard and he could be looking for us."

"I'm sure we can manage that, Sir. There's a tourist guidepost just up ahead, I'm working as a tour guide for the Rio Claro National Park. I can hide you while I go get a vehicle for a couple of tourists. Medellin is only a couple hours away and I can get you to the commander there, and we can get word to Chief General Hill that you're safe. Then he can let the covert ops team know you got out okay and the team can pull out, go home."


	10. Chapter 72: Dinner

**Chapter 72: Dinner**

"Dinner? But we're not dressed for it…we don't have any clothes—"

"It's a tourist hotel and a tourist town. There are people walking around here in just slightly less than nothing. You couldn't possibly wear anything that would offend anyone." Ettienne looked her searchingly head to toe. "What you're wearing is fine. Right?"

"Right," came two other voices, and here came Scarlett and Cover Girl—both wearing off-duty olive pants and white t-shirts. With the same clothes on, Courtney and Alex looked even more similar than usual.

Cover Girl saw their looks. "Stop staring. If we dress alike it'll be harder to tell who's who, especially in a crowd," she said irritably, punching Beach Head none too gently on the arm.

Scarlett made an unexpected grab for Alex. If Alex hadn't already been jumpy and tense and unhappy after the incident with the maid, she might not have reacted as quickly. As it was, she slid past Ettienne, evading Scarlett's grasp, and turned, her hand almost reflexively going for her gun.

Snake Eyes closed in from behind, and Alex felt more than saw his intrusion into her personal space. She lunged forward, slapping the floor with her hands as she brought her gun up, and ended flat on her back with her gun pointed upwards, only inches from Snake Eyes' groin.

"Whoa. Okay, Alex. Don't shoot that off, I might want that later." Snake Eyes did a double-take, staring at Scarlett in consternation as the rest of the Joes broke into barely-stifled chuckles. Ettienne gave Alex a moment to catch her breath, then held a hand out to her to help her up. She returned the gun to the back of her shorts, smiling a little self-consciously.

"Good prep. You acted more out of blind instinct than training, but the end result was the same. I just wanted to see if you were armed." Scarlett nodded approvingly as she checked Alex's back, under her shirt and pants, and found the thin-bladed little stiletto there. "Good. Keep that with you at all times. And your gun. Keep it loaded; you never know when you're going to have to use it." She paused in her examination of the cotton web belt that held the knife and gun. "Did you know I was going to test you?"

"Allie said that on the trip you would try to surprise me by throwing unexpected punches just to make sure I was paying attention to my surroundings."

She grinned. "Hah. I guess she remembers me doing that to her when she first joined. At least she thought to warn you. And you listened, better than some of our regular recruits." She tugged the back of Alex's shirt down. "Okay. You pass inspection."

Alex's hand reached back, grabbed Scarlett's wrists in a surprisingly firm grip. Caught off-guard, Scarlett let her duck under the wrists, pull Scarlett over in front of her and fling her away. Scarlett went flying, felt the bed at the back of her knees, sprawled in a very unladylike position on the bed. When she got up a few stubborn feathers stuck to her hair. "Now _that _I wasn't prepared for. You've been practicing."

"I've been working with her like you said." Ettienne was serious when he looked at Scarlett. "How well we train her now could mean the difference between her life and death. And there's a secluded little beach in New Zealand that I plan on taking her to see after this is over, so prepping her now will ensure that she gets to see that little beach."

"A-a beach?" Alex looked uncertain; her hands and arms came up almost unconsciously to cover her chest. "I-I don't know—all those people—"

"Uh uh. Private beach. Wear as much or as little as you want to. No disturbances from overreacting maids." Scarlett was grinning. "Sounds like a wonderful idea, Ettienne. And I know for a fact that you have some leave time coming up, so after this is over I'm sure General Hawk will give you the time off. Now come on, I'm hungry and I could eat a horse. Where are we going?"

"I thought we'd start with a light dinner downstairs," Beach Head came in—and he was wearing white and off-duty olive too. "It's a four star hotel in an exotic location, for chrissakes, I want to try the food. We don't often eat this well on a mission or off, and especially not on Uncle Sam's dime, so I for one intend to enjoy it!" He folded his arms and looked at them, daring them to disagree with him. No one did. "Then I thought we'd go and have a look at some of the local tourist sites. We want to increase our visibility and make sure Velez knows we're here; the sooner he contacts HQ via the secured line the sooner we can wrap up the whole business and go the hell home. We also need to make contact with Chief General Hall's operative here and make sure our weapons and transportation are ready if we need them in a hurry. " He turned to Gung Ho, "Go and change into off duty olive and a white t-shirt. We're about the same height, so if anyone's watching they'll be confused when they see you and I and Courtney and Alex together." Gung Ho disappeared.

"All right. Are you girls armed? I know Alex is."

"Got mine right here." Scarlett pulled the neckline of her shirt down, revealing the web of straps that kept two knives and an assortment of throwing stars close to her torso. A slit in the side seam of her pants also produced a small-caliber handgun strapped to her upper thigh.

Courtney didn't have the knives and stars, but she did have two nine mil Glocks strapped to her thighs under the pants. Alex stared at them. "Why don't my pants have those slits?" she blinked.

"What you have is the regular military issue off-duty slacks. Scarlett and I modify ours so that we have these extra weapons wherever we go, and we only wear these when we're on a mission because if we walked around stateside some dumbass metal detector would go off somewhere." Courtney rolled her eyes.

"I did think about outfitting you with the thigh holster and slit pants, but Allie talked me out of it. Since you're more familiar with your gun at your back, if there was an emergency you might reach back there first and waste a few precious seconds when you realize it's not there, it's around your thigh. Those few seconds can mean the difference between freedom or death." Alex nodded, understanding that, as Ettienne came back wearing the same clothes they were all wearing.

Scarlett looked around. "Where's Snake Eyes?"

As if the words had conjured up the man, Snake Eyes appeared from behind her. But he'd changed from his normal sober black to the same off-duty olive and white the other wore, and he'd shucked his mask. Alex couldn't help staring; he'd obviously used stage makeup to cover the scars.

He saw her staring and looked directly back at her. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'm so used to seeing you in your uniform or with your scars that you just…look odd without them."

He came to stand in front of her, his hands flashing; Scarlett translated for him. "The scars are a part of me now, just as your scars are a part of you. There will be many times when you will wish you didn't have them, when you wish they were gone, but never be ashamed of them. You have won them honorably, in battle; a warrior's scars. They tell the world you have survived something unimaginable, and that makes you a stronger person. Those who truly love you and care about you won't care about the scars. Just as you no longer see the scars on my face, we no longer see the scars on your body. Wear what you want, when you want, and be proud of them." Scarlett's voice took on a distinctly humorous tone with a core of contempt in it. "The makeup is only for those idiots with weak stomachs and weak minds."

Alex had to laugh at that. "Point taken." And deep in the pit of her stomach, a tight knot of unhappiness uncurled, smoothed. Disappeared. The sudden absence of it made her feel suddenly—free, and she cupped fists in front of her as she gave him a slight bow. "I will not forget, Sensei."

The smile on his face was radiant.

"When we get back to New York and everything gets back to normal, let me take you out." His face clouded, and he started to hold up a hand, but she shook her head. "It's not what you think. There's a lovely little place in Brooklyn called the Europa Bar, and they have sign language only nights; the bartenders and wait staff are fluent in AMESLAN, the food is good, the beer's plentiful, and you could take Scarlett so long as she doesn't speak. If you talk you get ejected." He looked interested. "And there's another place in Jackson Heights, called Club Atlantis, and they have 'silent nights' there too. There is music and dancing like any other nightclub, but it's carefully chosen and coordinated with a light show so that those who can't hear can still dance with those who can. Different colors for different octaves, and a killer sound system so you can feel the beat in the floor. I think you'd like it there."

"I would like to take Shana out more often. She doesn't get out enough." Shana stopped speaking, staring at him in consternation.

"Well, there you go then." Alex smiled.

"You guys go on. Snake Eyes and I have something to discuss." Shana firmly pushed the rest of the team through the adjoining door into the guys' room and closed the door.

Courtney started laughing so hard she had to sit down. "That's going to be a hell of an interesting discussion!" she gasped finally. At Alex's mystified look, she tried to explain. "Snake Eyes doesn't like going out because he thinks it's awkward that he can't talk. So he prefers to stay in on the evenings when we do have off-base leave time. Shana will occasionally come out with us, but she doesn't really enjoy the evening because she's thinking about him here by himself. So _she_ stays because _he_ does, and he feels guilty 'cause _he_ thinks he's keeping _her_ from having fun. I think you just gave them a solution to that particular problem—they were out at a nightclub once, and Scarlett was dancing. She's a very graceful dancer, with all that martial arts training, and when she saw he was watching her she put on a show for him. I heard his jaw hit the floor even over the music…and he started signing to her. Some idiot thought he was flashing gang signs and next thing you know there's the mother of all fights on the dance floor. Shana said afterwards that was the most fun she'd had in a long time, but Snake Eyes was mortified that they'd created 'a scene' and flatly refused to go again. And she was disappointed but if he wouldn't go she wouldn't either."

The door adjoining the two suites opened, and Scarlett came out, followed by Snake Eyes. Scarlett looked flushed, and Snake Eyes—was that the merest hint of a smile on his lips? "Come on. Let's go have dinner." She yanked open the door to the hall, then paused. "Snake Eyes and I will take you up on that offer, Alex." And then she was gone, long strides taking her down the hall several steps in front of everyone else.

Alex could hear Courtney and Wayne snickering in the back of the elevator. Shana pointedly ignored them. About halfway down Snake Eyes reached out and brushed the back of Shana's hand with two fingers, and Shana reached out with that hand, captured it in her own, and they held hands the rest of the way down.

Courtney's smile as she got off the elevator was truly insufferable. "I'll pay for that the next time I get on the mat with Scarlett, but it was definitely worth it."

There was hardly anyone in the hotel restaurant when they got downstairs; Courtney shook her head. "If the intent is to be visible to any watchers, we're not going to accomplish it here," she said as she did an about-face and marched up to the front desk, speaking to the clerk in rapid Spanish. A few minutes later, she came back. "The desk clerk recommends a nightclub a couple blocks away for somewhere a little livelier," she said cheerfully. "I got directions."

"Wait. A 'little livelier' or _your_ definition of 'livelier'?" Shana asked suspiciously.

"Would I do that to you?" Courtney looked decidedly too cheerful, Alex thought as the blonde tank jockey strolled ahead of them, hands linked with Wayne's. Shana, too, was holding hands with Snake Eyes, both of them looking in each other's eyes and no doubt making up (nonverbally) for the earlier fight. Despite the fact that Snake Eyes couldn't talk, Alex got the impression that Scarlett didn't win many arguments with him.

And then a warm, calloused hand slipped into hers, and she looked at Ettienne as he fell into step beside her. Smiling happily, she gave the hand a squeeze and they walked on, quietly enjoying the stroll and the simple physical contact.


	11. Chapter 73: Mangos

**Chapter 73: Mangos**

And when they got to the club, Courtney's cheerful look was explained—it was definitely 'lively', with people coming and going, the sound of loud music and talk and laughter coming from the open door. Inside, it was hard to remember that this was Medellin, Columbia; the place was easily the equal to any of Manhattan's ritzier clubs.

Snake Eyes and the guys' eyes darted everywhere, scanning the club for possible threats, but the place was full. Alex said quietly to them, "I seriously don't think Velez's people will try anything in a crowd this size. They'll likely see us, count heads, and report back. I don't anticipate problems."

Scarlett nodded. "Good observation. I agree. So let's just concentrate on spotting watchers."

They found a booth large enough for six people and sat down. Beach Head ordered a beer; after a moment, Scarlett and Snake Eyes followed suit. Ettienne, however, just got some soda, and Alex decided she would follow suit. She'd lost a lot of weight in the last nine months, and she also hadn't had any alcohol in that time; she wasn't sure she'd have the same tolerance she used to, and if they were in potentially hostile territory, it wouldn't be a good idea. She was a little surprised that Scarlett, the consummate professional, would order a drink, but Courtney explained under cover of the music, "Scarlett has a very high tolerance for alcohol, and she maintains it for this reason. She knows this is potentially hostile territory and she won't relax completely, just consume enough to take the nervous edge off and keep her muscles loose and ready. Anyone looking at her would think she'd be out of it by the end of a six pack but it barely affects her at all." Courtney didn't seem to be worried, and neither did anyone else, so Alex shrugged and decided to leave it up to them.

Courtney ordered a beer. It was something native to Colombia, although there were American brands like Budweiser and Coors available for the American tourists. She offered Alex a sip, and Alex, curious, tried it…and then didn't demur when Ettienne quietly bought one for her.

"Come on. I want to dance, and it'll definitely draw attention." Courtney took Alex's hand, and Alex, feeling pleasantly warm from the small amount of alcohol she'd already drunk, followed the other blonde out onto the dance floor.

"I haven't done this in ages," she said to Courtney as she and the blond tank jockey slipped into the crowd at the edge of the dance floor and found a small clear space. "I left the ICC almost nine months ago and I haven't had a chance to relax since."

"No one should have to live like that," Courtney said softly, stepping close to Alex so they could talk without being overheard. Her eyes flicked sideways, and a smile curved her lips. "And as long as _he's _around, you won't have to."

Alex followed Courtney's line of sight and saw Ettienne, sitting at the table with his eyes slightly glazed. "I think we're dancing a little close," she said.

Courtney looked at Alex, a mischievous light in her eyes. "Want to give them a show?"

"Um…you and Beach Head…"

"Alex. What red-blooded American male is going to turn down the opportunity to see two girls dancing together? Two _pretty_ girls."

"True. But you're not…you don't…"

"I don't _now_." Courtney leaned in close. "Never said I didn't _before_. You know how many photo shoots I did back in my days as a cover girl for the big fashion magazines with other naked and half-naked girls? You know how many of those photos Beach Head has under his mattress?"

Alex giggled, suddenly giddy. "All right. Let's hope we don't shock Scarlett and Snake Eyes."

"Let them be shocked. It'll be good for them."

"You'll pay for it on the mat with Scarlett."

Courtney grinned. "I'm willing to pay that price."

The rest of the clubgoers had noticed the two pretty young blondes dancing together, and that portion of the dance floor had quietly cleared to give them some space. There were more eyes than Beach Head, Scarlett, Snake Eyes, and Ettienne's on them too.

Courtney twined her fingers with Alex's as whoever was coordinating the music saw the shift in the crowd and saw the two women. The song chosen now had a deep, hypnotic, throbbing beat to it, and Alex's heart felt like it was beating to the music. Relaxing completely, she let herself go, her own longfingered, slim hands caressing Courtney's arms as the other woman started to sway. She moved her hips in rhythm, closing her eyes and smiling blissfully at the sensation of finally being able to relax, to enjoy herself, after almost a year out in the DRC hunting and being hunted.

"Jesus God," Wayne groaned. "How close are they going to _get_?"

Ettienne could hardly breathe. His pants felt several sizes too tight. He'd bought Alex a beer to relax her; he hadn't known that alcohol would bring this hot little sex kitten to the surface. He'd known that there was this side to her; he'd seen glimpses of it in bed with her, but she was normally cool and controlled. It was funny, but he wasn't jealous; maybe because he'd known that there was a side to her that liked girls—and there wasn't a single person on base who had never seen Courtney Krieger on the cover of a certain famous lingerie catalog, wearing a pair of glittering feathered wings and little else, pressed up against another just-as-scantily-clad blond. It was hard_ not_ to have seen it; that photo, blown up to poster size, was the dominant feature of Wayne's quarters, prominently mounted to the ceiling above his bed.

Now he watched, openmouthed, as he saw Alex's hands sliding over Courtney's arms. Their hands twined, held, released, trailed down each other's arms in a sensual caress. Courtney turned her head as Alex pressed into her back and their hips gyrated with the music, faces scant inches from each other, lips slightly parted. Even without makeup, they were both gorgeous. Courtney slipped under Alex's arm so she was now pressed against Alex's back, and Alex leaned her head back against Courtney's shoulder as the former model nibbled on her earlobe, then licked a path down the side of her neck.

He tore his eyes away from the scene for just a moment to check on the rest of the party. Wayne was absolutely entranced; he'd forgotten about his beer completely and had his cell phone out, videotaping the 'performance'. Snake Eyes…well, it was hard to tell from his expression, but by the way he suddenly slid his chair under the table, he was trying to hide his primal, physical reaction to the sight. And Shana…

Shana got up abruptly before he could see her face, yanked out the elastic holding her hair in its severe ponytail, allowing it to swing free around her face, then headed for the dance floor. For just a moment, he thought she was going to go break up Alex and Courtney's dance, but what she did instead was drop to a slinky crouch in front of the two other girls and lift the hem of Alex's t-shirt just the tiniest bit, then drop feather-light kisses on the exposed skin of Alex's lower belly, just above the waistband. Whoops and hollers exploded on the dance floor as she pressed up against Alex's front, hands sliding up Alex's ribcage until she cupped Alex's breasts, then leaned in to kiss, lick and nibble the side of Alex's neck that Courtney hadn't claimed. The three women moved in rhythm, their hips grinding into each other's with the beat, the sensuality unmistakable, their enjoyment plain.

None of the three men could breathe. Nobody else was dancing. Every eye in the club was riveted to the two blonds and the redhead dancing on the floor, their movement erotic even though they weren't wearing anything that could even be remotely construed as sexy. And maybe that was the allure of it, Ettienne mused as they changed places, Alex and Courtney now sandwiching Shana between them without missing a beat, without missing a step. It had looked completely spontaneous. With all three dressed alike, it was easy for a man's heated fantasy to construct an image of three coworkers having a tryst at work…

Snake Eyes suddenly nudged Ettienne and Wayne with a foot under the table, and they saw it at the same time. Two olive-skinned Colombian nationals, dressed in black with poorly-concealed weapons strapped to bulging thighs under ill-fitting pants. The three men tensed for a fight, looking from the Colombians to the three girls still gyrating on the floor, apparently oblivious to the watchers, but White Queen's, Cover Girl's, and Scarlett's eyes all flicked to their men simultaneously, and even though they never missed a beat, they were acutely aware of the watchers. Scarlett's hands slid to her chest, cupping her own breasts; a move that looked erotic but was meant to ascertain her throwing stars were still there; White Queen, standing in front of her with her back to the redhead, reached around behind her, hands close to the small of her back as she 'caressed' Scarlett's outer thighs; she could reach her gun in half a second if she had to. Cover Girl's hands came around, one cupping White Queen's hand, the other coming up to touch Scarlett's. No one in the club would have picked up the significance of the rapid flutter of Cover Girl's fingertips against the back of Scarlett's hand except those who knew the abbreviated sign language Snake Eyes and Scarlett had worked out to use during battle.

They all tensed but didn't stop what they were doing; initiating a gun battle in a nightclub full of innocents wasn't real high on their list of things to do. If Velez's people—it had to be Velez's people, who else could these thugs be?—wanted a fight they would have to start it. But after what seemed like an eternity the two men spoke into cell phones, then retreated to the back of the club. Not leaving, but not escalating.

Gung Ho was moving before he even realized it; as he approached the three women, White Queen slid smoothly away from the other two girls and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him into a private dance. A moment later, Beach Head joined Cover Girl, and then Snake Eyes joined Scarlett.

"Watchers," Gung Ho whispered as he pressed his lips against White Queen's.

"Yes, I know," White Queen whispered back as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed a hot wet path down his jawline. "Looks like they're only here to observe and report."

They swung into a tight circle around Cover Girl and Beach Head, the two girls leaning over to kiss each other even as their men gyrated hips behind them. "They're just here to look," Cover Girl whispered to White Queen. "Scarlett says to follow her lead. Don't escalate the fight unless they start it first."

Scarlett swooped in, and the three girls came close. "Let's finish this song and get out of here. We've made our point."

"Yes, and it's right behind us," Cover Girl grinned, and Scarlett laughed aloud as she pushed herself off the three girls and whirled away from them, following Snake Eyes' lead. Cover Girl turned to capture Beach Head's mouth in a hot, passionate kiss, and White Queen fell into Gung Ho's arms. "Tired?" he whispered into her ear.

"A little," she said, and she felt him take the lead, wrapping his arms around her. She leaned up against him, moving with him, then, as the music reached a crescendo and she felt instinctively that it was going to end, she let her legs give out and brought him down with her, his arms cradling her carefully as she melted into a puddle at his feet.

The club was silent for a full minute. Then it exploded. By the time the six Joes could fight their way through the crowd back to their booth, Velez's hired muscle was gone.

"That was fun!" Courtney exclaimed as they hit the sidewalk outside the club. "And they gave us free drinks afterward!"

"Speak for yourself," Shana retorted as she confined her hair back in its ponytail. "Nearly gave me a heart attack, both of you!"

"Looked like you were enjoying it to me," Courtney sassed back, still grinning happily. "Never knew you liked—"

"Hold it right there. You are NOT going to tell anyone at Joe HQ what we did in there. The mission was to catch attention and let Velez know we were there. Mission accomplished. That's all."

"Yes, Master Sergeant, Ma'am!" Courtney snapped a salute, which she then ruined by giggling.

Alex snuggled against Ettienne. "I did have fun," she yawned. "And Ettienne…I'm sorry…the alcohol, and Courtney talked me into it…"

"I'm glad she did," he whispered to her, tucking a strand of blond hair back behind her ear. "I knew there was a wild passionate sex kitten under there somewhere. You don't let Sexy Lexi out to play often enough."

"Sex kitten," Alex giggled a little. "Never heard that from any of my boyfriends before."

"Then you haven't been dating the right guys." He kissed her forehead. "When we get to New Zealand, I want to see what else that little sex kitten has up her sleeve…" Alex laughed again.

Shana walked next to Snake Eyes in silence for a short time, unsure what to say to him. She hadn't meant to get involved in the dancing, but Christ, the open eroticism Courtney and Alex were displaying got to her, and she'd badly wanted to join in…now she was regretting it; she knew how Snake Eyes hated to be the center of attention, and yet she'd drawn him onto the dance floor…but the memory of his body dancing with hers, hard muscle against soft curves…it took an effort not to lick her lips, catlike.

Snake Eyes' hand slipped into hers, fingers signing a message. _Don't regret it._

She looked at him, then signed back; she wanted to keep this conversation private. _I'm sorry?_

_Don't regret it. I'm not upset._

That surprised her so much she actually stopped short, then continued on, fingers flashing into his hand. _You're not?_

_No. I rarely see that passionate side of you, and never with another woman, much less two. Once I got over the surprise, it was.._.a pause, as if he were trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. _Deeply erotic. I wanted to rip your clothes off and take you right there._

She swallowed hard at the heat that shivered through her at those words from him. The thought of him going animalistic on her, losing his cool, controlled demeanor in favor of wild, primitive passion… she licked her lips again. _Let's make a date…next leave, we're going to that New Zealand beach, and I won't even bother with luggage, and you can show me what you wanted to do back there…_

She could almost hear his purr of satisfaction.


	12. Chapter 74: Wounded

**Chapter 74: Wounded**

Although Clayton said he was up to it, Olivia could see he was struggling. Each step brought a grimace of pain to his face, and he held his torso unnaturally still, favoring the bullet in his side. She wasn't much better; although she'd mostly stopped bleeding, her loins ached fiercely with every step and she badly just wanted to lie down somewhere and sleep for a week.

What made them both choke back their pain was the young corporal, Chris. He'd flinched when he'd seen the blood between Olivia's legs. "Alex," he said tersely by way of explanation, and she'd heard him throwing up later. She understood his reaction completely; after having seen Alex's medical file, the thought of what young Chris must have seen right after the team had pulled Alex out of the militia camp made her swallow bile, too.

There was no way to bring a vehicle to the sandy little beach cave that Clayton had found for them; Chris told them regretfully that they would have to try and walk. "Just about five miles. There's a tourist overlook just around the next bend; there's a small rest stop with a little gazebo where people can see the falls without getting wet. I can leave you to rest there while I get back to the guides' office and get a truck."

He was trying his best, and she knew that, so despite her body screaming at her that she needed to rest, the hunger and thirst gnawing at her (Clayton had told her not to drink the river water, the bacteria would make her sick) and her exhaustion and blood loss, she bit back her complaints and struggled on. Pride made her bite back every complaint and sound; she was a civilian, and they were military, and they didn't need to hear her whine.

Clayton, too, maintained grim silence; his only complaint was a hiss of indrawn breath when his injured leg struck up against a fallen log or boulder, or when an involuntary movement brought fresh pain from the wound in his side. Olivia was supporting him as best as she could on his injured side; Chris ranged ahead of them, making sure no one was following them and on occasion shoving dead trees and other debris out of their way so that they could pass a little easier. He had a canteen of water with him; but he hadn't expected to find two injured out here, and the water that would have been enough for one wasn't enough for three. They rationed it out, a few sips per person each time they stopped, but it wasn't nearly enough in the humid subtropical jungle environment, and Olivia forced herself to take smaller and smaller sips.

Clayton was worrying her. He hadn't spoken much since they ran into Corporal Simes, and at first she'd thought this was just his way of dealing with the pain; but the last time they'd stopped his shirt had pulled up for just a moment, and she thought that bullet wound looked a lot nastier than it had when she first saw it. He'd waved her off and pulled his shirt back down, but the brief glimpse she'd gotten made her think it might be getting infected. And as the day wore on and she felt his skin getting hotter and hotter, she was sure of it.

"All right. It's just at the top of this hill, Ms. Benson," Chris carefully came halfway down the steep slope and watched her and Clayton anxiously. "Sir, we're almost there. Come on." He shook Clayton's arm gently.

Clayton's head lolled on his neck, and Olivia almost crumpled under the sudden dead weight of his body. Chris grabbed her arm, rescuing both of them from tumbling back down the steep slope they'd spent most of the morning climbing, inch by torturous inch. "I think his bullet wound's infected, Corporal," Olivia said tersely. "We have to get him to medical help. Let's hurry and get to the top of that hill." She looked up at it. "How much further?"

"It's only about a quarter mile further, Ms. Benson, but that quarter mile's almost straight up. Are you sure you don't want to rest?" She shook her head grimly and kept going.

Every step was torture; her body was howling in outrage at what she was asking it to do. Exhaustion blurred her vision, but she refused to give into it and forced herself to keep going even though all she wanted to do was rest. Chris finally called a halt at the foot of a twenty-foot sheer cliff face. "You're not going to do either General Abernathy or myself any good by collapsing."

Olivia conceded the point and sat down heavily on a nearby boulder, but when Chris offered her the canteen, she shook her head. "Give mine to Clayton."

"He's unconscious, Ms. Benson. It's no use to him right now." Reluctantly, she gave in, but when she would have taken a half-mouthful despite her body's screaming at her that it wanted more, he shook his head. "More than that."

"You need—" she started, but he shook his head.

"I'm still in good physical condition, Ms. Benson. I'll get by. The General's unconscious, and he's depending on you to be able to get him up there so I can go get a truck and come back. The tourist overlook there has a filtered water fountain that's pumped up from a natural spring deep in the rock; there will be plenty of water once you get up there. But you have to actually get up there." She conceded his point, took a full mouthful of water, then put the cap back on the canteen and rose from her rock to get Clayton up again. And as she did she heard his indrawn sharp breath. "Ms. Benson…you're _bleeding_ again."

She looked down; sure enough, there was a dark smear left on the surface of the rock she had been sitting on. She'd been so focused on survival and escape that she'd never noticed when she'd started bleeding again. "It can't be helped, Corporal. We have to get Clayton to safety and medical attention before the infection spreads too far. I'll deal with it later."

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. "Yes, Ma'am," he said finally, and was it just her tired imagination, or was there a new note of respect in there for her? She didn't know, didn't care; her world had narrowed to Clayton, this hill, and Chris's promise of an end to this nightmare at the top of it.

But by the time they got to the top she could no longer bite back her pained whimpers, and she simply dropped Clayton to the hard concrete of the tourist gazebo, then collapsed beside him, her arms weakly trying to cradle the agony in her middle, ignoring the blood on her thighs. She pressed her forehead against the cool concrete, trying to breathe as Clayton had taught her to fight the pain, but there was so much of it, and she was so tired…

Chris's hand touched her arm, and she focused tiredly on the canteen. Water. And it was full; he must have filled it. She tried to reach for it, and was too weak. He slid a hand under her head, propped her up so she could drink. It was so cold her teeth ached, but it was water and she swallowed greedily, gulping. "Slowly, Ma'am. Too much all at once and you'll shock your system." She forced herself to take small sips, then, until it was all gone, then unsteadily pushed herself up on her hands and knees, crawled over to Clayton, and pushed up the hem of his shirt so she could see the bullet wound.

There were livid red lines of infection spreading over the surface of his skin, radiating outward from the bullet wound. "Oh Christ," Olivia whimpered as she pillowed her own sweaty forehead on Clayton's unresisting forearm. "Clayton, I'm so sorry…"

"Ma'am. Ms. Benson. Olivia." She lifted her head, stared tiredly at Chris. He crouched in front of her, keeping his voice low and steady, speaking clearly and slowly so she could understand him even through the pain and exhaustion fog. "I'm going to go and get a vehicle and bring it back. I'll go as fast as I can, but it might be a couple of hours before I get back. Can you hang on, Ma'am?"

"I have to." Olivia whispered. "I have to. Please…just get back as fast as you can."

"I will, Ma'am. I promise." He laid a hand on her arm gently, reassuringly. "I'm leaving my knife and my gun here in the General's belt; if anyone catches you don't hesitate to use it." She nodded wearily, and then he was gone.

Alone now except for Clayton's unconscious body, she felt free at last to give vent to her pain, and she sobbed and cried for a long time. Darkness descended, then, and brought blessed relief from her pain for a brief time.

Her next conscious awareness was a shout, and then rough hands on her arms, hauling her upright. She swayed in their grip, tired eyes trying to focus, and saw two men, one holding her, one nudging Clayton's prone body with his foot. She cried out weakly, in anger.

The second man heard her, came over, cupped her chin in his hands. "Look at her. And him. There's no way they got here from where the jeep crashed by themselves. Who's helping you?"

She gathered the last of her failing strength and spit in his face.

Her head rang from the heavy backhand that sent her sprawling across Clayton's body. "Bitch," the man snarled, wiping his face as he advanced on her, unbuckling his belt. "I'll teach you to spit on me!" he snapped at the other man, "Give me some privacy. I'll break her in for you and then you can have her." The door to the gazebo slammed.

Olivia didn't even have the strength to try and evade him as he grabbed the hem of the shirt and pushed it up past her shoulders, but she felt tears squeeze under her eyelashes in humiliation as he swore. "Look at what that bitch Sandra did to some perfectly good female meat," the man cursed. "Oh well."

Meat. From somewhere inside her Olivia found a last tiny reserve of strength. She was not meat. She was a cop, and damn it, no hired Colombian muscle was going to rape her without her fighting. She felt something hard under her; her hand came up to feel it, and her heart leaped. Chris's knife, the one he'd left. It was all she had, but at least she could hurt the son of a bitch with it…She yanked it from its sheath as she rolled over, crying out in pain and fury, and slashed and stabbed blindly at her attacker.

Her aim was better than she realized.

Red coated her vision. Her world turned red. The red of arterial blood, squirting from the severed artery in the man's thick, bullish neck. The artery that she'd slashed, completely blindly, in a lucky stroke that she would never be able to duplicate again if she tried. A heavy body thudded to the floor beside her, and when she scrubbed her other hand over her eyes, cleared the red film from her vision, she saw the man dead beside her, his face frozen in a final look of shocked surprise.

Her searching hands found the gun Chris had left, and she palmed that as she tried to bring her pounding heart and agony-throbbing body under control. There was another one out there, and he would be coming in for her soon…she rolled over on her stomach, gun in hand, pointed it at the door. As she saw it open, she cocked, aimed, fired.

The heavy 45 caliber Desert Eagle kicked back in her hands, the powerful recoil grinding her elbows into the concrete, wrenching a howl of pain from her. But she heard a scream from the other side of the door, and her blurred vision saw the abrupt departure of the man she'd hit, the one who'd been waiting for his turn at her abused body.

She didn't bother trying to chase him, even though she knew he was going to get reinforcements. She couldn't even get up. Her right elbow felt like she'd broken it and the rest of her was just screaming, and she knew she'd reached the limits of her endurance. She'd tried, so hard, but she just couldn't do it. "I'm not as strong as one of your soldiers, Clayton," she whispered as she leaned her head against his side, "God help me, but I'm not strong enough. I'm so sorry."

Chris would never remember later what bullshit excuse he'd given to his supposed 'employer', the park guide supervisor, to justify taking one of the park rangers' Range Rovers. He'd quick-marched and jog-trotted the three miles back to the guides' office, spurred on by fear that when he got back both General Abernathy and Ms. Benson would be dead. The general was suffering from fever brought on by infection, and Ms. Benson… She'd looked unscathed when he'd found them, but realization hit him when he saw the bloody smear on the rock where she'd been sitting. _She's been tortured just like Alex Cabot._

It was a memory he knew he was likely to carry for the rest of his life, the image that haunted his nightmares. Alex Cabot, lying on the stretcher, tortured almost to death; the sheet ripped off her, exposing her brutalized, mutilated flesh, the horrific ruin between her thighs. And in his nightmares it wasn't Alex Cabot, but Lexi Simes, his little sister, lying on the floor of her bedroom with her pants down and their foster father hitting her with a belt; it was his little sister's face on Alex Cabot's body in the DRC. On his next leave he would go and see her where she was going to nursing school in Chicago. Tell her how much he loved her. Make sure she was safe.

And now this other woman, who he felt was connected to Alex Cabot in some way even though they hadn't had a chance to discuss her presence there. She'd been fighting pain the whole way, and his respect for her had grown with each passing hour they'd been moving, along with his determination that she and the general would not die. _All it takes for evil to win is for good people to do nothing. I never wanted to be one of those who stood by and did nothing._ He'd told First Sergeant Hauser that.

_I couldn't do anything about Commander Shiflett stripping Alex, but I can make sure this friend of hers gets out. Anyone who can do something like that to a woman, could make her hurt so badly down there that she would bleed, is evil._ He set his teeth as he got behind the wheel of the vehicle, started the engine, peeled out of the small parking lot that house the park rangers' vehicles.

He drove as fast as he dared along the winding road that led back out to the tourist overlook at the falls. On any other day he'd enjoy the drive; the jungle alive with the sounds of life and nothing else, very far away from the Chicago slums and housing projects he and Lexi had grown up in. Today, though, he looked at the surrounding greenery and saw a hidden enemy behind every tree; saw pursuers in the shadows; heard Ms. Benson's scream in every birdcall, and he drove faster than was allowed along that road.

His heart almost stopped when he pulled up outside the gazebo and saw the door open. And then it jumped into his chest when he saw the tableau inside. Ms. Benson, unconscious, her head pillowed on Clayton's similarly unconscious arm, so splashed with blood that he thought she was dead for a moment. Then he saw the other body, huge muscled guy with his pants unbuttoned and his male equipment hanging out, intentions clear, stopped when his throat was slashed open. The bloody knife he'd left her lay a couple feet away, indubitably the weapon she'd used to kill him, and his Desert Eagle in her nerveless hands, elbows scraped, spent shell on the floor. And when he walked back to the door, he saw the blood spatter. She'd surprised someone coming in, had scored a hit; the attacker had likely run off to get reinforcements.

They had to move; he had no idea how long ago this had happened. Flies were already clustered thickly on the puddle of blood from the slashed throat, and they were buzzing eagerly over Olivia's bloody thighs. Chris winced, shooed them away, then carefully pulled the shirt down to preserve some of her modesty. Grabbing the canteen from the floor, he filled it from the spring-fed fountain, brought it over. "Ma'am," he whispered. "Here. Come on now, wake up."

The smell of water woke her, and she swallowed weakly. He held the canteen for her until she finished, then said, "I have the vehicle waiting outside. If you can get into it, I'll bring the General." She was in no shape to be carrying Clayton; he knew that, and she knew that, but as she struggled to her feet she grabbed Clayton's arm. "Ma'am…"

"You need to cover our backs, Corporal," she ground out, and he, surprised at her strength of will and determination, allowed her to half-drag, half-carry Clayton from the gazebo to the Range Rover, and sling his unconscious body across the back seat. The effort cost her, and Chris had to help her get into the front passenger side of the range rover, where she promptly passed out.

_Good; let her rest. We have a few hours before we get to Medellin. I can contact our mission commander once we're there and have them airlifted out._


	13. Chapter 75: Quarry

**Chapter 75: Quarry**

"How could this happen? How?" Velez was in a towering rage.

All his carefully laid plans had failed. First the African militia leader, leaving the American soldier who had been captured with Alex Cabot alive. Then Alex Cabot escaping. His contact in the Colombian embassy—and by extension, the UN—failing to intercept the American soldiers before they smuggled Alex Cabot out. Now the General and Alex Cabot's female lover had escaped; by the time Alvarez had come back with news that the General and the American bitch had survived the landslide and Velez had been able to send out reinforcements, they had been gone.

And that wasn't all. There was no way that either the American General or the lesbian cop would have been able to orchestrate this escape on their own. Someone had to be helping them. Someone who had access to heavy weaponry—that was a 45 caliber slug Velez's doctor had pulled out of Felipe Alvarez, and the knife left beside Jorge Candeloro's body—that was definitely American-military issue.

And where American weapons were, American military wasn't far behind. And where there was one you could bet there was a whole lot more. Somehow they had smuggled a force of American military in without his knowing, without his eyes and ears everywhere seeing or hearing or finding out about it. Someone was going to pay for that, dearly.

So he had a number of problems now. Alex and the team of six was in Medellin; the report he'd gotten—and the cell phone videos he'd seen of the three dancing girls from Club Mangos—confirmed it. But his bargaining chip, the lesbian cop bitch (and to a lesser extent the American General) had escaped. And once that team of six knew he had nothing to bargain with, there was nothing to keep them here and he could kiss them, and his real quarry Alex Cabot, goodbye.

He needed another bargaining chip, another reason for them to stay.

He looked up at his men, standing silently around. Trying to be unobtrusive. When Velez was angry, heads started rolling. People started dying. The smell of blood was already thick in the room, from Alvarez's dead body lying in the center of it.

Well, he'd been shot by the American cop bitch. That meant he was stupid. Velez didn't tolerate stupidity.

"Get this piece of filth out of my office, and then stay out!" he thundered at the men standing around, and they hastened to obey.

When he was once again alone he flung himself back into his chair and thought hard, staring at his computer screen, where the cellphone video of Alex Cabot dancing with the other blond played. It had been a little hard, initially, to tell the other blond apart from Alex Cabot; they moved alike, dressed alike, had the same haircut. Velez knew it had to be deliberate.

The other girl, the redhead, joined them, and he watched disinterestedly. He'd already seen this a few times; the redhead moved like a predator, feline grace and leashed power kept tightly under control. If he hadn't already met Alex, he would have found himself interested; this woman had the same aura of feminine power that Alex Cabot had, but hers was that of a warrior born, where Alex's power came from inner strength and outer softness. When he had both, he would enjoy breaking the redhead almost as much as he would enjoy breaking Alex Cabot.

But how to get them?

The three men joined the three girls, and Velez reached out to turn it off. He had no interest in the men; there was no challenge there. But just as he reached for the mouse, to click the video off, something caught his eye.

The man Alex was dancing with.

Knowing that Alex Cabot had a female lover had given him slight tunnel vision when it came to other relationships that might be used against her. Seeing her dancing with this American soldier now made him realize just how short-sighted he'd been with that narrow viewpoint. There was definite attraction there…no, worse than that, they were obviously _lovers_! Velez's hands curled into claws on the arm of his leather executive chair, barely realizing it when his nails scored the leather.

There was no mistaking it; it was there, evident in the fire in their eyes when they looked at each other, the way they just naturally fitted their bodies together; a gentle caress of his hand against her cheek, her soft mouth trailing hot kisses down his jawline and neck, her soft, panted gasp as his mouth closed on the junction of her neck and shoulder, leaving a tiny little love bite there…

A small part of Velez's mind idly wondered how that worked, how a woman could have a female and male lover at the same time, how that worked out in bed—but the greater portion of his mind was howling in anger and betrayed lust, _She is __**mine,**__ get your hands off her!_ And it was that that finally crystallized his resolve, formed his plans, as the music came to an end and the American soldier's arms cradled her possessively as she melted at his feet.

_Get this soldier._ It had been a long time since she had been in New York, been a long time since she had been with this cop bitch. If the attraction between the cop and Alexandra Cabot were still there he couldn't imagine that Alex would have been dancing with other girls. He had miscalculated. Alex and the cop were no longer girlfriends, it was now Alex and this soldier.

He rewound the video, froze it at a point where he could get a clear view of the man he wanted, then he pressed a button. As if they had been waiting just outside, his men filed back in, minus Alvarez's body, this time.

He turned the screen of his computer toward them. "Get this man," he ground out from between gritted teeth. "I want him. I do not know what his name is, but he is one of the six you have been watching at the Carlton. Get him alone and bring him here. Put him in the basement where we kept the other prisoners, the General and the cop…and guard it so he does not escape!" As they filed silently out of the room, Velez took one last look at the face on his computer screen. "We will meet soon, I promise you," he said to the smiling face of the American soldier. "And you will learn what it is to cross paths with Cesar Velez. You will learn not to mess with what is _**mine**_!"

Alex woke slowly.

It felt odd, suddenly, to be waking up between normal sheets and fluffy down pillows instead of the firm Army-issue mattress and blanket at Joe base. The base had become her life for the last month and a half, and a normal bed suddenly felt strange.

She yawned, then turned her head.. Courtney was still asleep on the bed beside hers, but on the other side of Courtney Shana's bed was empty. "Shana?" she tried to sit up, and then almost screamed at the sudden sharp pain in her lower belly.

Shana popped up from where she'd been sitting on the floor, obviously meditating and running through her morning stretches. "Alex?" Then, as she saw the look of pain on Alex's face, she sprang up, racing to Alex's bedside. "Alex! What's wrong?"

Her tone of panic woke Courtney, who sat up, scrubbed one arm across her eyes, then saw Shana beside Alex's bed and Alex in obvious pain, and she slid out of bed. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know, she woke up in pain…Alex, come on, speak to me, what's wrong?"

Alex ignored her for the moment, curled up in bed, eyes squeezed shut. _I haven't pulled anything, strained anything. I was fine when I went to sleep last night. Why am I hurting?_

Shana grabbed the bedcovers, yanked them back, and Alex suddenly felt the wetness on her inner thighs even as Courtney gasped. "Shana there's blood all over the bed!"

Shana ran for the small bathroom, grabbed a towel, shoved it under her hips. "Alex. Let me see."

"No…no…it's okay," Alex raised her head weakly as it finally hit her. "It's okay…I haven't had one in so long I forgot how bad they get…Oh Christ…"

"What?"

Alex's face flushed. "My period."

"Oh, for crying out loud…" Shana smiled in relief. "Courtney, it's okay, it's not something to bother the guys with—" but the door between their suites had already popped open, and Ettienne was inside first. He opened his mouth to say something, alarm written all over his face, but Alex herself forestalled his panic.

"It's okay, I'm okay, I just wasn't expecting to suddenly get my period."

Courtney gaped for a moment, then as she took in Alex's flush, the towel on the bed, and Shana's half amused, half-concerned look, she turned and firmly pushed the three men back into their suite. "Let's get her cleaned up then you can come in and fuss." She closed the door firmly.

"Do your periods usually hurt this much?" Shana asked Alex as Courtney came in with a wet washcloth, which Alex took with an embarrassed smile and started to clean her legs.

"Um…it's been a while since I had one, so…but yeah, I can get really bad cramps sometimes. Like now. Ow." She curled tight around her middle again.

"How long ago did you have your last one?"

Alex thought. "A couple months before I left the ICC. I haven't had one since Clancy came to me to ask me to participate in the operation to get Zimurinda."

Shana stared. "Alex. That's…that's more than a year ago. We've known you for three months, the first failed mission in the DRC was six months before we got involved, and you were in the DRC waiting for your escort for two months previous to that. Clancy talked to you about two months before that. " Quick figuring. "Thirteen months, give or take one."

Alex shrugged. "Something like that. It's been a while." She saw Courtney and Shana exchange looks. "What?"

Courtney answered, her voice soft. "We all know that our periods stop when we're totally stressed, or we lose weight quickly. Most of us military girls stop having our periods during training, because we're under a lot of stress, we're losing fat and putting on a lot of muscle very quickly, and it can be very hard physically. Allie, Shana, and I opted, when we joined the Joes, to have the implants that shut it off for two to three months at a time, and then Hawk is notified not to send us out on active duty for that one month when those implants are pulled. We don't go out on active field duty during that month because it could be inconvenient or dangerous on a mission."

"You don't have implants. I remember Doc fussing about having to order liquid contraceptives placed in your IV so you wouldn't get pregnant, it was a complication you couldn't physically deal with during your recovery. So if you've been missing your period for that long, Alex, you've been under far more stress for far longer than any one person should ever have to put up with. How much did you weigh before Clancy came to talk to you?" Shana folded her arms, green eyes narrowed.

"Um." Alex had to think about that. "I think I was about one thirty. I'd been fluctuating and my periods were sort of intermittent for about a year before that. I think the irregularity really started when I got shot by the sniper in Rio. I'd have a couple, then skip a month, then have one, then skip another two months. The first time it happened I went crazy worrying I was pregnant, but it was impossible since I hadn't had a physical relationship since I left New York. I mean, I fell in love with Kris but we never took it to a physical level."

"Oh my God, at the time they raped you you hadn't had sex in three years? Jesus friggin' Christ no wonder it fucking hurt so much, and why you tore!"

"Courtney!" Shana snapped. "That's not making Alex feel any better!"

"Sorry," Courtney was instantly contrite.

"You're, what, five eight, five nine? How much do you weigh now?" Shana asked.

Alex shrugged. "I think Doc said the last time he checked me out was that I was like one ten or one fifteen." Her tone got slightly defensive. "He seemed pleased; he said when I came in I was just over a hundred, I gained ten pounds since I came to stay at the base with you all."

"You should be about a hundred and fifty, maybe one sixty if you have muscles since muscle weighs more than fat." Shana shook her head. "No wonder Ettienne carries you around like you weigh nothing at all; he benches half again what you weigh!" She sighed. "And what that means is that you're suffering from long-term malnourishment and vitamin deficiencies."

"Doc gave me a wide-spectrum vitamin. He told me to take one every day, and he gave me iron supplements as well."

"Well, at least he took care of that." Shana stood up from the bed and pointed at Alex. "_You _are going to take a hot bath in the bathroom; it'll relax the cramping in your stomach. _I_ am going to call the maid in to change your sheets—I'll handle it, don't worry, for pity's sake, Alex, stop looking so guilty!—and Courtney, _you're_ going to go with Ettienne to the closest drugstore or wherever it is that they sell aspirin and feminine hygiene products. Alex, let Courtney know what you prefer. When she gets back you'll get back in bed and stay there until the pain goes away. We are in hostile territory and I can't have my half of the team compromised. You don't leave this room until I'm sure you're a hundred percent functional."

"I would argue with you but right now I hurt too much. Yes, Master Sergeant Ma'am." Alex slid out of bed and hobbled slowly to the bathroom, disappearing inside.

By the time Scarlett got off the phone with room service Courtney was dressed, and she opened the door and finally let three worried-looking guys inside. "Alex is having her period. For the first time in over a year." She saw their looks. "I'll explain to you two," she pointed to Beach Head and Snake Eyes, "In a minute. Ettienne. You're going to escort Courtney to the closest drugstore and get some feminine hygiene products and aspirin. Courtney spoke to Alex, she knows what to get. Courtney, you explain Alex's condition to Ettienne on the way. Go."

She waited until the maid left with the soiled sheets before she finally faced the guys. "Alex has been under so much stress and has lost so much weight in the last three years or so that she's had only intermittent periods. And she hasn't had any at all in the last year to thirteen months, since Clancy first talked to her about an operation to take Zimurinda down. She woke up this morning and almost thought something was wrong with her."

"That's not healthy," Beach Head said slowly.

"No. It's not. It says a lot for just what kind of stress she's under, that she would miss her period for a whole damned friggin' year because of Clancy and this bullshit!" She'd lost her temper, and she knew it, but she couldn't even imagine how bad it must have been to live with so much fear and stress daily that she'd miss her period for almost a year and a half. "When that asshole recruit said she looked like a concentration camp survivor, I could see what he meant physically—she was skinny. But the amount of stress she's been under is about the same as a concentration camp internee, and while I can't allow that sentiment, I do understand." She faced Beach Head squarely. "As the commander for the female half of the team, I have placed Alex on bed rest today. Ettienne and Courtney should be coming back shortly with medicine and feminine protection. We've been very busy in the three days since we've gotten here, trying to make sure Velez knows we're here. That will have to take a back burner to Alex's health."

Beach Head nodded. "I agree."

Snake Eyes just nodded.

"Good. Then we're settled."


	14. Chapter 76: FOB Medellin

**Chapter 76: FOB Medellin**

Her next impression was of blinding light. A hand peeled her right eyelid back, shone a light into it, and she came awake, dizzily, blinking the spots out of her eyes. "Clayton—!" she tried to call him, but her voice was a harsh croak.

"Easy, Ms. Benson. Take it easy." A male voice, unfamiliar, and a male hand on her arm, also unfamiliar. Her dazed mind interpreted it as a threat, and she fought the hand weakly, trying to free herself. _Velez he has us again…please God, I don't think I could survive it a second time_… "She's dazed and in shock and she's fighting me…someone get a gurney over here…" the voice faded.

"Easy, Ma'am." A young voice. A familiar voice. Chris Simes, her mind finally dredged up the identification from the depths of her memory. "You're safe now. We're at the forward operations base here in Medellin. They're getting the General out of the vehicle first and then they'll get you. Okay? But you have to let them help you."

"Tired….dizzy…"

"I know. Can you stand, Ma'am, can you get out?"

She honestly didn't think she had the strength to even cry right now, but strong, gentle hands helped her out of the rover and as her bare, scratched feet touched the hot tarmac the rover was parked on, she cried out. Those hands lifted her back up to sit on the rover's seat as two other people wearing medical white came up. "Okay, Ms. Benson. The gurney's here. Let's get you on it, okay?" She nodded, and a moment later felt like she was floating as strong arms scooped her up and laid her down gently on the bed, and then draped a sheet over her.

"Jesus Christ, look at the blood on that seat. She doesn't look outwardly harmed, where is all the blood coming from?"

"Let's get her inside first." A sensation of movement, as the gurney was wheeled into the sudden climate-controlled coolness of a building, and she drifted in a semi-conscious doze for a while, giving into her body's screaming at her to rest.

She came to full wakefulness as a hand touched her thigh. "Ms. Benson…" a female voice this time, with a faint Hispanic accent. Olivia's pain-fogged brain was unable to process that it wasn't Sandra's voice, and she reacted by kicking, crying weakly in pain and terror; they'd been kidnapped again, Sandra had them, and she was going to hurt Olivia worse now…

"Ms. Benson! Ma'am! Easy," came another voice, male, young. Chris Simes.

She opened her gritty, aching eyes and whimpered, "Please don't let her get me again. I can't do it again, please…"

"She must have been tortured by a woman. Think we should get a male doctor?" Without waiting for an answer, the female voice moved away, and the next hand that touched her was firmer, heavier. Male. Olivia didn't fight the hand this time as it pulled the sheet back, and she felt cool air on her thighs.

She did fight as the hand tried to part her legs. "Ms. Benson. Ma'am. Easy," came Chris's voice again. "They just need to look, okay? They need to stop the bleeding."

Some small reasoning portion of her mind cringed. _Jesus, he's all of like, what, twelve, and he's seeing me like this?_ But the greater portion of her consciousness, the one that had been through unimaginable pain for two weeks, clung to that familiar voice, didn't care that the familiar voice was male. She just nodded. "Okay…please just don't let her come back…"

"All right, Ms. Benson. I'm Henry Callahan, I'm the Chief Medical Officer here at FOB Medellin. I'll be your doctor, but you have to let us look, okay? You're bleeding pretty badly and we need to stop it." She squeezed her eyes shut, nodded as her fingers curled tightly around the rail at the top of the bed. Her knuckles went white as something cool touched the pain-hot flesh between her legs, but she forced herself to keep her legs open as they cleaned her up, wiped the sticky, dark crusted blood from between her thighs.

"It looks like you have some tearing here." She nodded, eyes still closed; she could handle the pain better if her eyes were closed and she didn't have to focus on what they were doing to her, she could focus on those breathing techniques Clayton had taught her to handle pain, and she could bear it. Just barely, but she could bear it. "I'm going to have to place some stitches between your legs. Not much, just enough to stop the bleeding. It's a common procedure for women who tear in childbirth, okay?" she nodded again. "Before I do that, I'm going to give you something for the pain, and then I'll give you a local. You'll feel a sharp prick, and then everything will go numb." She nodded again, didn't even have the strength to flinch as an IV needle slid under the thin skin on the back of her hand and was taped down, then a fuzzy, welcome numbness spread throughout her body, and the throbbing between her legs faded to a dull ache. She barely felt the prick of the needle as they injected the local between her legs, but she certainly felt the sudden relief from pain as the rest of the agony between her legs melted away.

She floated in and out of consciousness as they opened stirrups, slid her feet into them, and carefully started to stitch her up. She'd never had a local; it was strange to know that something was going on between her legs but not be able to feel it; and she ignored it in favor of just drifting. Awareness only returned when they let her feet out of the stirrups and closed her legs, and let the sheet cover her.

"Let's have a look at the rest of you," And hands started to reach for the shirt she was wearing, and she clutched at it feebly. It was all she had, and it was Clayton's, and she wanted it no matter how grimy and filthy it must be.

Chris must have understood. "Ma'am. I know it's General Abernathy's shirt, but it's dirty. Let us take it off and clean it, and you can have it back, okay?" She nodded weakly after a moment, and allowed the doctor to pull it off, then lay back as he inspected the burns. "What made these marks?"

She really didn't want to talk, she just wanted to drift, but when Chris repeated the doctor's questions she forced herself to answer because he'd helped them, God, she'd be forever grateful to him, and she owed him at least that much. "Electrodes."

"Electrodes? The only way they'd leave those kinds of marks is if the electricity was turned up…all the way…" the doctor trailed off as she nodded, and he cursed colorfully. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Drugs…she gave me drugs. Cocaine. Scopolamine, GHB. Meth. She electrocuted Clayton too but he didn't get the drugs."

"That explains why the insides of your elbows are purple from subcutaneous hemorrhaging. I suspect a lot of the pain you're feeling is from your muscles knotting up from the electric?" She nodded. "And I expect you went through withdrawal."

"Clayton got me into the river when I went hyperthermic," she closed her eyes, suddenly so tired that all she wanted to do was sleep.

The doctor must have sensed that because he said gently, "I'm going to give you something to help you sleep now." She nodded without opening her eyes, and the needle in the back of her hand gave her something cold into the back of her hand, and it was the last sensation she could process before her world went blessedly, finally dark.

The doctor slumped as her eyelids closed. "Thank you, Corporal," he said to the young man standing on the other side of the bed from the now-sleeping woman. "I don't think we would have gotten through all that if it weren't for you. She seems to be responding to you and the sound of your voice."

"A miracle," came a new voice, and Chris snapped to attention as Colonel Ramirez came in. "At ease, soldier. I saw most of that, and I'm hereby reassigning you to the escort team that will take General Abernathy and Ms. Benson back to their base in New York. She seems to be responding better to you, and I don't want a repeat of what happened when Beth here," he indicated the female doctor who had tried to treat Olivia, "first tried to touch her."

"It's not her fault, Sir," Chris felt the need to speak up. "She's not military, she doesn't have the training we do. She's a civilian, a police Detective from New York, and the past couple weeks must have been…unimaginable."

"NYPD. Jesus, they must make them stronger up there, any other civilian would be dead by now."

"I can't argue with that, Sir." Chris nodded.

"Would you have a problem staying with her? If she wakes up and doesn't remember where she is or she needs something, can you play nurse for a little while?"

"No problem, Sir."

"All right. Then you're assigned as her nursemaid. Hope you don't mind."

"It's an honor, Sir." Chris sat down in a chair by Olivia's bed as the Colonel and Doc Callahan moved over to the next bed.

"How is he doing?" Colonel Ramirez spoke first.

"Not good, Colonel. Exhaustion, dehydration, skin surface burns from the same electric that Miss Benson was tortured with. He does have a bullet wound in his side there that is definitely infected, and his broken leg is also infected, although he did a good job of setting the bone and splinting it himself. I can't imagine what the two of them must have felt traipsing through the jungle in this condition."

"Is he stable enough to move?"

"Under normal circumstances I would say no. I'd prefer they both woke up and were coherent before I would recommend they be moved. However, with the current situation, and the knowledge that it could shortly get very ugly if Chief General Hall decides to continue with this mission to eliminate this druglord, I am in favor of moving them out of this FOB and sending them stateside. If the operation goes as planned we may have casualties and I wouldn't be able to monitor them as well as they should be to ensure their complete recovery."

"That's what I thought. Let me speak to Chief General Hall and have them sent back to SouthCom as soon as possible. Are they up for a three-hour flight?"

"Yes. As long as General Abernathy keeps getting those antibiotics in him to fight that infection, he should be okay, and Ms. Benson—I've done everything I can for her and time is the only thing she needs now."

"Good. I'll talk to Chief General Hall."

Hall broke into a relieved smile as Colonel Ramirez finished briefing him. "By all means, let's get them home. That's a huge load off my mind; the Black King no longer has the White Queen's pieces as hostages."

"Sir?" That last made Ramirez frown.

"Do you play chess, Ramirez?"

"Not really."

"When Miss Benson's girlfriend Alex Cabot was here, she rather aptly painted a picture of this entire thing as a chess game. She is the white queen, and this druglord who has a vendetta against her is the black king. Everyone else, all of us, are pawns on this giant chessboard. This frees her to make her own choices now about whether to stay or go, to continue with the mission or just tell us all to go to hell and take her girlfriend home."

"She's a civilian. She would never dare to tell you—"

"For the moment she _is_ military; General Abernathy provided her with a cover identity of Private Cabot while she stayed with them. But civilian or not, yes, she would tell me to go to hell if she wanted to. You haven't met her. There's a lot of character wrapped up in that pretty packaging." But Hall didn't sound unhappy with the fact. "All right. Go ahead and send Abernathy and Benson up here to Miami; we'll stabilize them here and send them on to New York. Let me call their base and let them know their General will be coming home."

"There will be three going to New York."

Hall paused. "Are you aware that Abernathy's base is a highly-classified, top-secret project?"

"Yes, Sir, I am aware of this, but General Abernathy is unconscious and Ms. Benson is so confused by the drugs and pain that she only responds to familiar voices. And the only familiar voice she has to hold onto right now is the young Corporal, Corporal Chris Simes, who found them wandering out in the jungle and brought them in. The only way my doctor could examine and treat her was with Corporal Simes talking her through it."

"Oh Christ, we're not going through that again." Hall squeezed his eyes shut.

"Sir?"

"You read the paperwork on the ICC operation that Private Cabot was involved in?"

"Yes Sir. And I did notice it was…sanitized."  
>"Yes, it was. What was left out was the horrific physical damage Ms. Cabot suffered on the command of this druglord. It's a miracle she survived at all."<p>

"Ms. Benson doesn't seem as bad."

"Thank God for small miracles. All right, I'll call Abernathy's base and let them know their general is coming home plus two. I'll give them the name and service file of this Corporal Simes, and let them make the decision about whether they want to let him on. I will tell you that if they say no, he will not be going."

"I understand, Thank you, Sir."

The shrill ringing of Hawk's phone startled Flint, Allie and Duke out of their conversation.

They traded looks; fear that this was bad news, hope that it was good, and then Flint pressed the speaker button. "Joe base."

"Chief General Hall, Miami SouthCom. Your operator patched me through."

'What's up, General?"

"I have some good news and bad news for you. What do you want first?"

Flint closed his eyes. "Bad. Please."

"You're about to have another civilian on your base, and she's not in the best shape."

"Oh Jesus, not Alex again!" Allie burst out.

"No, no, not Private Cabot. Her friend, Ms. Benson."

"Olivia?" Then, as that sank in, "and Clayton?"

"He's coming too."

"Oh thank God!" burst from Flint, Duke, and Lady Jaye at once. Then, "But we hadn't heard word from Velez."

"Velez apparently couldn't keep an American General and an NYPD cop captive. They escaped and one of our operatives picked them up in the jungle and brought them in to Medellin FOB. They'll be on their way here to Miami as soon as General Abernathy's stabilized and I'll forward them to you guys. Plus one."

"Plus one?"

"Not a civilian. The young corporal who picked them, up, a…" he looked at a scribbled note on his desk, "…a Corporal Chris Simes. Ms. Benson is pretty bad off but she's the only conscious one, and she's only responding to Corporal Simes. The doctor couldn't treat her until he talked her into standing down. Colonel Ramirez at FOB Medellin says he'd like to send Simes on with Ms. Benson and General Abernathy in case she wakes up disoriented and has a bad reaction. I told him it would be dependent on you as the Interim Base Commander."

"Send him on." Duke spoke before Flint or Lady Jaye could say anything. "I met him in the DC and he struck me as being a bit green but his heart and his intentions in the right place. I intended to speak with General Abernathy about recruiting him for our project when this was all over."

Flint nodded. "All right, Chief General Hill. We will prepare to receive wounded and Corporal Simes. How long before they get here?"

"I would say tomorrow afternoon at the latest. Colonel Ramirez is prepping them for travel now, they should be here in three hours. I'm going to have the doctors here look them over and make sure they're okay to travel and then send them on to Gould in Brooklyn, and then on to you. Right now we just want to get them out of a potential combat zone if all hell breaks loose down there."

"Sounds good to me. All right, we'll prepare to receive them tomorrow. Let me notify Major General Johnson."


	15. Chapter 77: Capture

**Chapter 77: Capture**

"Ettienne? Say something." Courtney peered into his eyes.

He never heard her. _I knew she'd lost weight, I knew she was really thin and very light, but Jesus, I didn't know it was this bad! She should be one fifty and instead she's one ten. I bench one sixty on a bad day, two hundred on a good one!_

_And she hasn't had her period for almost a year. Which means so much of her body's resources was being lost to stress and worry and fear that normal physical functions like reproduction shut down. And now Doc says it's unlikely she'll ever have kids because the internal scarring is too extensive._ His heart ached.

"Ettienne. You're worrying me. Say something." Courtney poked his arm with a finger.

He blinked, returned to the here-and-now. "I hope she doesn't want kids, because she's probably not going to have them now."

"Ettienne, I really don't think kids are really high on her list of priorities right now," Courtney said gently. She hadn't been sure, when she started talking, that Ettienne would understand, but the big Cajun had surprised her again. He understood all too well what the loss of normal physical cycles meant, and had figured out the ramifications to that loss as well. And she felt a little sorry for him even as she was thinking, _three months ago he didn't even know she existed. Now all of a sudden she's the most important person in his life, I'm willing to bet even above his own. Love is complicated._

"Here we are," she said, reaching for the door to the drugstore and opening it. It was a small storefront, tiny, with a single double-sided aisle stocked with basics. Courtney led the way over to the feminine hygiene section, selected the items Alex had told her to get, then picked up a bottle of maximum strength aspirin. Ettienne looked intently at her selections, no doubt filing them away for future reference, and Courtney had to fight the smile. _Next time you're going to pick up what she needs yourself, hmm? Betcha you're not going to have any problems with it either_, thinking about how Beach Head always looked a little uncomfortable standing in the feminine hygiene aisles with her when they went shopping stateside.

And if she had any doubts about where Ettienne's mind and thoughts really were, they were dispelled the next minute when he stopped by a selection of candy and chose a bag of chocolates with different fillings. And if he noticed how Courtney was snickering when he laid the chocolates on the counter, firmly took the aspirin and package from Courtney's arms, then laid his own credit card on the counter, he didn't say anything.

He did finally notice her quizzical look as the cashier rang up their purchases. "What?"

"We have an expense account for this trip."

He made a face. "I don't think Alex would be too thrilled about knowing that some pencil-pushing bureaucrat somewhere knows that she prefers pads to tampons. Or that she likes Advil instead of Tylenol. And the chocolates are a personal purchase."

Courtney took the bag from the cashier, digging out the receipt as they both headed toward the door of the shop. "Well, you could always submit an expense report later. Wow, look at the prices for this stuff compared to what they are stateside. I bet the exchange rate is—" She stopped, every muscle and nerve suddenly tense as eight men entered the store.

_Big. Muscled. Velez's thugs. Goddamn. Looks like he's making his move!_

Gung Ho must have thought the same thing, because he glided in front of her, past her, deeper into the store. Four men headed after him, two stayed on Cover Girl. "Get out of here!" he called to her.

"Don't play the hero!" She called back, reaching into the slit in her pant for the gun strapped to her thigh. One would have to work; her other hand was juggling the bag with their purchases in it. "Alex would rather see you with your shield than on it!"

And then there was no more time for words.

The man standing directly in front of Cover Girl opened his arms in a wide bear hug and rushed her, probably hoping to grab her. By the time he lumbered forward into the space she'd been standing, she was no longer there—and she was a couple steps closer to the door than before. He stumbled up against the counter (the shopkeeper had disappeared at this point) turned and lumbered toward where she stood.

_Like a game of pong; he can only travel in a straight line. Fortunately I'm under no such handicap._ She froze, putting on her best wide-eyed 'I'm a helpless deer in your headlights' impression; he, seeing what he thought was an easy capture, spread his arms wider in the same movement he'd tried before.

_Fucking idiot. If it didn't work before why try it again? Jeez. No brains._ "How do you function without a brain?" she hollered at him as he barreled right into the second man confronting her with enough momentum that he pushed the other man over, backwards, into the plate glass of the store's front door. They fell out into the street in a crash of glass and cursing and struggling limbs, and she was able to skip out, over them, past them, out the door.

She hesitated, not wanting to leave Gung Ho behind, but he didn't seem to be having much luck; they had plainly sent the best they had to capture him, and she got the worst. They clearly wanted him, not her, but she didn't have time to think it through right now. He hadn't been expecting trouble on a trip around the corner, and the only weapon he had with him was a Smith & Wesson 9 mil. One man went down with a bullet; three more shots went wild. Bullet number five hit one thug high in the shoulder; the man bellowed but kept coming….

And then there were no more rounds left in the gun, and Cover Girl heard the unmistakable sound of a tazer crackling, followed moments later by Gung Ho's scream. She flinched at the sound, then ran. There was nothing more she could do on her own with limited weaponry and no backup.

"We got trouble!" The Joes were mobilizing almost as soon as Cover Girl burst into the girls' hotel room. Fortunately everyone was there, so she didn't have to repeat her breathlessly-gasped story twice. "We were in the store. Gung Ho and I were ambushed as we were leaving by six men, Velez's thugs. I managed to evade the two who were supposed to capture me but Gung Ho wasn't as lucky. His gun ran out of rounds and they tazered him into unconsciousness."

"You left him?" Alex's cry of betrayal cut through Cover Girl like a knife.

"I had to, Alex, there was no way we were going to win that one. There were eight of them and two of us, and neither one of us was packing extra ammo." She thrust the bag at Alex. "Here."

"You did the right thing," Beach Head told Cover Girl, then turned to the others. "All right. Snake Eyes and I will go and check the store out. From what you're telling me it was a kidnapping attempt, so I doubt they'll still be there but we can at least check it out. Scarlett, Cover Girl, stay here with White queen. Don't let anyone into or out of this hotel room. Arm yourself and prepare for trouble. Scarlett, call HQ via the secure satphone and let them know what happened. Let them know we aren't going to move until we have orders." He stared at Alex until finally, reluctantly, she nodded. She would wait for orders.

The guys disappeared out the door, and Scarlett dug out the satphones from their bags, checked quickly to make sure she had the right one, the one secured for their communications only, then switched it on. "Alpha Team to base, come in."

"Base to Alpha Team, we read you. What's your status?"

Scarlett gave them a succinct summary of what had happened, using a lot of codes Alex didn't understand. Nor did she care; she sat miserably in bed, feeling numb. _If I hadn't gotten my period it wouldn't have happened. They wouldn't have been able to capture Etienne. _She felt even worse when she opened the bag and saw the chocolate. _Oh God…Tienne._

"Alpha team, this is Lieutenant General Johnson. We just received word from SouthCom that General Abernathy and Ms. Benson are safe and are now in friendly hands. They are currently at the forward operations base in Medellin, not in good condition, but alive. As soon as they are stabilized they'll be flown via MedEvac to U.S. Army Garrison Miami."

"They're safe?" Scarlet blinked as a grin spread over her face.

"They are confirmed safe, though not in the best physical shape. They managed to escape their captors. A full briefing will need to wait until both recover consciousness, but the operative from Manta Base who found them said they had gotten free on their own, he got them to a tourist overlook and left them while he went to get a vehicle. General Hawk has an infected bullet wound in his side and Ms. Benson sustained….internal injuries…but the EMO who looked at them at FOB Medellin said both will recover with time."

"Thank God," Scarlett rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

"As Cesar Velez seems incapable of following even his own directives, we are not bound to follow them any longer. I will have Colonel Ramirez of the Medellin FOB contact you, and you are hereby ordered to raid Velez's compound and rescue your kidnapped—

Two satphones rang at the same time, one on Scarlett's end and the other on Lieutenant General Johnson's. Scarlett grabbed hers first; it was the monitored line they'd left open for Velez to contact them. "You goddamned son of a _bitch_!" She snarled into the phone.

"Ah-ah. You wouldn't want to put Ms. Cabot's soldier lover in danger, do you?" Velez's silky smooth croon on the other end of the line sounded satisfied. "I may have lost Miss Benson and General Abernathy—I'm pretty sure you know they are safe by now—but now I have a new bargaining chip."

"Don't you dare touch him!" Alex's voice, full of rage and hatred as she came out of the bathroom, fully dressed now in her fatigues. "Damn it, Velez, don't you _dare_ touch him!"

"Ah. The lovely Alex Cabot. How are you doing?"

"It's me you want, you son of a bitch! You've been trying for three damn years to get my attention. Well fine, now you have it. What do you want!"

"What I've always wanted." Velez's voice was oily with triumph. "You. You're mine, now and forever. Always have been mine. Just because you chose to give your body and your affections first to the lesbian cop bitch and now this American soldier doesn't mean you're any the less mine."

"Give Ettienne back and you can have me, you son of a bitch! I will not let anyone else die for me!"

"He won't die, Ms. Cabot, as much as I believe he might wish to right about now. But no, I'll keep him around. By the way, I saw that shameful display you put on in the nightclub; my men brought back a cell phone video. In the future, you will dance like that only for me. If you have a problem understanding that I can always lay a few more scars on that lovely body of yours."

"Go the fuck to Hell!" Courtney shouted from where she was getting dressed too, strapping guns to her belt, but Alex hushed her.

"What do you mean, he wishes he were dead right now?" All the fight had gone out of her voice; she sounded tired, defeated, although as Scarlett and Cover Girl looked at her, they saw her eyes were still flashing icy anger and she was stiff with fury.

"I'm teaching him a lesson in touching what is mine."

"No," and this time the anguish wasn't feigned. "Please, Velez…don't. You want me, fine. I'll come."

"I have no doubt you know where I am. Come to me penitent, come and say you're sorry for running from me all these years, and I will let him, and the rest of your friends, live. All I have ever wanted is you, Alex."

"I'm coming." Velez hung up.

"You are _not_ going."

Alex's eyes were full of anguish as she looked at Shana. "I have to. If I don't he'll kill Ettienne."

"Alex…" Flint's voice was soft, on the other end of the phone with Lieutenant General Johnson.

"I have to." She took a deep breath. "Please. You have to understand. I am tired of seeing people hurt because of me, dying for me. It will end. I never knew he would become this obsessed with me when I put his associate in jail five years ago. It should never have gotten this far."

Lieutenant General Johnson broke in. "As much as I hate to say it, I have to agree. Let's coordinate with the FOB in Medellin. I'll contact Chief General Hall and the commander at Medellin FOB and have him start moving as many of his personnel as he can into the hills surrounding Velez's villa. Go in with Alex. Wait for Velez to come out. When he comes to greet you our soldiers can take their shot. And it'll be over."

Alex sighed. "Thank you, Lieutenant General."


	16. Chapter 78: Check

**Chapter 78: Check…**

"She is coming. To get you. How touching."

Ettienne raised his head slowly, biting back a cry as his body protested even that tiny movement.

His last memory was of watching Cover Girl run out of the store door before burning pain erupted from the tazer leads in his chest. He'd blacked out, woken up here, stripped to the waist, all his weapons gone. He guessed, from the temperature, that it was underground. He'd known from the bloodstains on the nearby bed that this must be Velez's private torture chamber, and he'd wondered whose blood that was.

And he'd known he was next.

Handcuffs—more like thick iron shackles—bit into his wrists as his entire body weight hung from those shackles. There was another, thicker one around his neck, a harsh iron collar with a chain pulling it from the back, keeping it tight against his windpipe, forcing him to pull up against the wrists shackles to get a deep breath of air into his lungs. The hanging position was made all the more excruciating as Velez's hired muscle used Ettienne's body for a punching bag, slamming fists into chest, ribs, kidneys. The hits to his kidneys were the most excruciating.

But even as he swung, howling with pain from the hits, a small disconnected part of his mind howled in triumph. Because it was him hanging here, not Alex. The image of Alex hanging here, being beaten as he was being beaten, Alex crying as her lower back was bruised and brutalized—that image hurt more than the beating, more than the shackles biting into his wrists, more than the subtler but fiercer ache as his wrists, arms, and shoulders protested the fact that they were being forced to bear his weight. He retreated behind his SERE training, put up mental walls between his mind and his pain, disconnecting deliberately so that when the opportunity came when he could escape and kill this sick son of a bitch, he would still have some measure of internal strength to draw from.

And now Velez was here, taunting him. Ettienne raised his head slowly even though his entire body protested, wanting to see for the first time this man who he was already sure he was going to kill.

He looked like an average Colombian. Large frame, but Ettienne himself was large-framed. Muscular, but not as much as the Marine he now faced. Nothing remarkable about him.

Until you looked in his eyes.

And that was what rocked Ettienne. Velez had the eyes of a born killer. Hard, dark, piercing, with a small, mad light down at the bottom of the pupils, a small speck of light hazel color in the dark-coffee irises. Having once seen those eyes, Ettienne would never be able to mistake Velez for anyone else.

The man moved smoothly around the tiny chamber, like a coiled cobra waiting to strike. There was something in him that reminded Ettienne of Snake Eyes, all controlled movement and leashed power, but Snake Eyes was a somehow benign power. There was nothing remotely benign about Velez.

"I miscalculated, you see. I knew Alex had a relationship with the cop bitch—oh, you wonder where they are. They escaped me! And the General, he killed Sandra!"

Ettienne smiled, a rictus grin of triumph as he spat a mouthful of blood on the floor. He suspected he had a fractured rib, and it might have punctured a lung somewhere, but he pushed that thought aside. "Not so powerful as all dat," he croaked. "Couldn't even hold onto a civilian cop and an American General."

"I have power! I have you! And I'll soon have her!"

He didn't even have to ask who 'her' was. "Dat's where you're wrong," he told Velez, and his anger thickened his accent. "You're dead wrong. You completely missed de point. Alex's isn't 'yours'. I'm not 'yours'. Just because you have me now don't mean I'm yours. And Alex…" he grinned. "Alex will never be yours."

"She will be mine! Like she was yours!"

"_Non._ She was never 'mine'. Dere's no way I could ever chain a woman like her down by saying she's 'mine'. She's her own person, she makes her own choices to who she wants to hang out wit', but she's never been anyone's. She isn't property."

"You say that, but I saw the two of you dancing in the club!"

"_Oui_, you saw us dancing. Did you watch de whole t'ing, Velez? She decides who she want to dance wit', de girls or me."

"But you held her possessively at the end of the dance." Velez looked confused, faced with this challenge of what he believed.

Ettienne threw his head back and laughed. He couldn't help it; Velez was so far off the mark it was funny. "You t'ink dat was 'possessive'? Were you watching de same dance?" He sobered. "I support her, in whatever choice she makes. When all dis is over, whet'er she decides to stay wit' me or goes back to living wit' her girlfriend, I'll let her make t'ose choices on her own. Because I love her, and even if it means I don't get to wake up wit' her every morning, even if it means I have to see her and know she's wit' someone else, I want to see her happy even if it's not wit' me. Dat's love, Velez. Dat's de t'ing you can't understand, dat's de reason we are stronger t'an you. Because we love and are loved, and you…you don't even know de meaning of de word." He shook his head. "I pity you."

"Pity?" Velez punched Ettienne hard, snapping the Marine's head back on his neck. "I'll show you pity…"

He was interrupted in his beating by a tap on the door, and then one of his heavily-muscled goons poked a head in. "There's a jeep coming up on the east road."

"Ah. That would be Alex, coming to rescue you. See, even though you put so much faith in love, soldier, it's a double-edged weapon. I can use her love for you to bring her here, and I will get her to say that she loves me. I will!"

_You can't force someone to love you,_ Ettienne thought as his body hit the floor of the 'torture chamber', and two guards dragged him up. Shoulders, arms, back, wrists were on fire, and he howled in anguish as he was half-dragged, half-carried down a narrow hallway, up a short flight of stairs, and into a beautifully, tastefully appointed living room, then he was through it and outside a set of tall sliding-glass doors.

It was pouring rain outside. Velez stood on the veranda of the hacienda, one of his hired-muscle goons standing behind him holding an umbrella to keep the rain off the Colombian druglord. The flimsy handle of the umbrella was dwarfed by the massive fist holding it, and Ettienne wondered idly, as they dragged him out into the muddy yard, what the goon actually thought of being utilized as an umbrella boy. The entire clearing was ringed with Velez's thugs, all holding heavy assault rifles, facing the road and whatever vehicle might be coming down it.

There was what looked like a tall clothesline pole mounted into a bed of concrete, but instead of clothes line there was a pulley system on the end of the arm with a hook dangling from it. Velez's thugs hauled Ettienne over to it, hooked the two short links of chain between the wrist shackles, and then raised the pulley so he was once again hanging by his wrists.

A short time later, a military issue jeep plainly smuggled in from Manta base drove up. Beach Head got out from behind the wheel, in fatigues, guns in his hand the moment he alighted. Scarlett and Snake Eyes were both dressed in black, Snake Eyes with his mask over his face. Scarlett's eyes fell on Ettienne's bruised, beaten body, and her face went still and impassive as she went into full battle mode. Cover Girl climbed out the back, also in fatigues, guns in either hand, ready for trouble.

And then the front passenger door opened, and Alex got out of the seat beside Beach Head. She wasn't wearing fatigues; she wore a white thin-strapped tank top and her off-duty olive pants, and Ettienne's heart leaped into his throat as he saw her. She looked beautiful even with the thin lines of scars plainly evident on her chest and shoulders, standing there ignoring the rain that soaked her, turned her pale gold hair to the color of wet sand, darkened her olive pants to black. He looked into her eyes, wondering if he would see fear there, but her eyes were full of pain and sorrow and determination. He saw Velez raise a hand, saw the gun in it, pointed in his direction, and closed his eyes. At least, if he was going to die, it would be with this last glimpse of Alex…

She moved quicker than he'd thought she would; before Velez could pull the trigger, she stood between Ettienne and the druglord, and her voice was clear as she shouted, "No! No more death! Not for me!"

Velez lowered his gun. "We meet again, Alex."

"Yes. And for the last time. This ends now." She slowly walked across the green lawn toward him, hands in plain view, making no sudden moves, but she kept her body between Velez's gun and Ettienne. The other Joes tensed, but there wasn't much they could do with Velez's goons all pointing guns at them. They'd be cut down before they even moved a step.

"You're hardly in a position to bargain, Alex."

"I think I am. I have something you want. Me." A deep breath. "Let Ettienne go, and I will stay. Willingly."

Velez laughed. It wasn't a nice sound. "And I am to believe you."

"That's what you want, though, isn't it? Me."

He took a step forward, grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back so that her face was only inches from his. "Yes," he hissed. "I have wanted you since I saw you sitting in that filthy ICC jail. Before that I hated you because of what you did to Zapata. After that I wanted you." The fist tightened, and she winced as her hair was pulled. "And now I have you." His hand went for his pocket, a sudden move. Alex tensed. The Joes tensed, weapons coming up to point at Velez; Velez's bodyguards pointed their rifles at the Joes.

At this range, their heavy assault weapons wouldn't miss. The four Joes standing by the vehicle would be cut down before their lighter armament could fire a shot.

Stalemate.

Velez's hand came out of his pocket with a short-bladed switchblade. He held it up in front of Alex, who simply looked at him steadily; no fear in her blue eyes. To Ettienne, watching from a closer viewpoint than the rest of the Joes, she seemed almost relaxed, serene. _She's been waiting for this moment for five years; this is anticlimactic._

Velez placed the knife at her collarbone. "So. My African contact marked your skin before I could," he said almost conversationally as he drew the knife downward through the soft fabric of her tank top. "Did it hurt when he whipped you, Alexandra? Did you scream? I would have loved to hear you scream." He hit the cotton web belt that held her knife, the one Scarlett had given her, and snorted in laughter as he pulled the tiny knife out of the sheath "A child's toy." He threw it aside, onto the ground, and Ettienne saw Scarlett's eyes close in anguish.

Alex sucked in a breath as Velez cut her shirt through and pulled it off her body. The shirt was followed by her thin bra, leaving her naked from the waist up. Ettienne cringed as he saw Velez's soldiers staring at Alex's body, Alex's scars; she was so self conscious of them, about looks and stares…Velez must have known that, was counting on her self-consciousness to break the shell of calm she was presenting.

Alex never flinched. Ettienne saw her eyes flick in Snake Eyes' direction, then she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. And at that point, Ettienne realized this was a psychological endgame. If Alex showed any weakness now, if the façade of calm she was showing cracked even the slightest, Velez would win.

Score one for Alex. Velez stripping her hadn't broken her calm. She stood there, facing him squarely, back straight. Rain streamed down her face, over her breasts, dripping from the point of her nipples, but she made no move to cover her body up, no sign that she wasn't fully in control.

Velez's face twisted into an expression of frustration. "Whore. Stand there exposed to all my men. Perhaps when I tire of you and you are too scarred and broken to be amusing, I will give you to my men, to service them as you serviced that African warlord's men in the jungle.

"You would never give anyone something that you consider is yours, Cesar." Alex's voice was firm and unwavering. "Not even me. You're too possessive to ever let anything go that you considered yours. That's why you chased me all over the world. That's why you had a sniper shoot at me in Rio. That's why you had Sandra put acid on the handle of my suitcase at the Amsterdam airport. But you're also a coward, because you couldn't face me and hurt me that way; you had to strike at me from behind other people, use other people to do what you wanted because you couldn't face me." She spread her hands. "I'm here and I'm yours. Try me. Break me if you can, Velez."

"No!" the cry came from Scarlett and Ettienne throats at the same time as Velez took the two steps that separated him from Alex and grabbed her. His head went down to her chest, and Alex's face twisted in pain, although she didn't scream. When Velez pulled away, there was blood on his lips and a deep, bleeding bite on the pale skin of Alex's left breast.

Her hand came up to cover the wound involuntarily; she sucked in a breath, then faced him. "Is that the best you can do? Zimurinda gave me more pain than that."

"Bitch!" He snarled as his fist crashed down on her face, sending her spinning to the ground. Before she could get up he was on her, straddling her, and Ettienne saw the bulge in his pants as he used his fists to punch Alex, over and over. His fists turned red; Ettienne didn't even want to think about how much this was hurting, and he willed Alex to scream just so Velez would stop beating her.

Cover Girl was screaming profanities at Velez and his muscled thugs; Scarlett had gone still and quiet, held back from a suicide attack only by Snake Eyes' hand on her arm. They faced Alex's left, so no one but Ettienne saw Alex reach out sideways, groping for something small and shiny glittering in the grass. Ettienne saw her searching fingers close around whatever it was that she was looking for and raise it.

The knife Scarlett had given her.

She must have seen where it landed on the ground, must have deliberately spun away from Velez after that first punch so that she could fall on or near it. Working with Snake Eyes and Scarlett had given her speed and better reflexes; not the equal to them, but better than Velez had, and definitely better than the hired muscle he'd surrounded himself with.

The tiny stiletto buried itself in Velez's neck.

And all hell broke loose.

From the jungle surrounding Velez's backyard armed US soldiers in full jungle camo erupted, screaming, guns already out and firing. Velez's goons turned to face this new threat, completely forgetting about the four Joes in the center of the yard. Beach Head, Scarlett, Snake Eyes and Cover Girl ran to Ettienne, and Cover Girl started lowering the pulleys that held him hanging as the others turned to face the furious fight on the ground.

Oblivious to the shooting going on around them, Velez and Alex were locked in a hand-to-hand struggle. Velez had put his gun down in order to punch her, and so he was weaponless. The small stiletto that Alex held wasn't large enough to do significant damage unless she hit him in exactly the right spot in exactly the right way; Scarlett had her gun out and was trying to get a clear shot but the two figures were rolling, in constant movement, and getting a clear shot where she wouldn't end up hitting Alex was difficult.

Ettienne ignored all of that. He wasn't going for a shot; as he dove for the two struggling figures all he could think of was to get Velez away from Alex. Velez was taken by surprise by this newcomer to the battle, and that moment of surprise was enough for Ettienne to grab his arms and physically drag him off Alex.

And she reached into the slit in the side of the pants and whipped out her gun, the one that had kept her company for five years while this obsessed madman chased her all over the world, and shot him with it.


	17. Chapter 79:Mate

**Chapter 79: …Mate**

The look of surprise on Velez's face was one that Ettienne would remember forever. He stared at the bright red flower of blood that blossomed on his chest for what seemed like an eternity; then his body slowly crumpled. Ettienne opened his hands nervelessly, let the man fall, just as his own legs buckled.

Alex was beside him in an instant, catching him, lowering him so that he could lie on the rain-soaked grass as she cradled his head in her arms, as she kissed him. "Ettienne, oh God, I'm so sorry…"

He was tired, so tired; he just wanted to lie there and enjoy the feeling of her arms around him, but the sight of her face, bruised, lip split and swollen, tears leaking out from under an eyelid that was swelling and turning a fantastic shade of purple, stopped him. "Don't cry," he croaked, almost choking on a mouthful of blood. "He's gone, Alex, he's gone and he'll never ever hurt you again."

"Put him down, Alex. I think he has a broken rib and it's punctured his lung." Beach Head, Scarlet, Snake Eyes, and Cover Girl joined them, and Alex reluctantly laid him down. They converged on him, Cover Girl exclaiming over the bruises on Ettienne's torso. Since she had some first-aid training, Beach Head let her give directions.

Scarlett and Snake Eyes turned, to see Alex sitting on the wet grass in front of Velez's body; Scarlett muttered a curse and ran back to the jeep, grabbing Alex's fatigue jacket from the front seat of the vehicle and coming back, draping it over the blond's shoulders, hiding her nudity from the soldiers behind them. The Army commandos were rounding up Velez's goons; those that had survived the initial volley of US military gunfire had promptly surrendered when they saw they were outnumbered and Velez was dead.

Alex was still staring at Velez's body as she said softly, "Scarlett…thanks."

"For?" Scarlett sat down next to her, voice quiet. Snake Eyes took a standing position, guarding them even though there was no threat now.

"For everything. For training me. For coming with me. For letting me borrow these modified pants and the thigh holster." Alex hefted the gun. "It didn't occur to me that he would know I carried the gun in the back of my pants, and if he stripped me and didn't see it there, he would take it for granted that I wasn't armed except for the knife."

It seemed like a trite observation, but as Scarlett peered into Alex's eyes (one was still open, though the other was now swollen shut,) she saw why. "Alex, you're in shock. Your pupils are dilated."

"I….I can't believe he's gone," and now it sank in, and her shoulders started to shake. "I can't believe he's dead. It's over." And, softer, ":It's like this huge weight's lifted off me. I'm free, for the first time in five years." Tears mixed with the rain streaming down her cheeks.

"Except for Sandra. I wonder where she is?"

Beach Head came up, then. "Colonel Ramirez," he motioned to a man standing off to one side of the battlefield, directing the loading of Velez's surrendered thugs into large transport trucks, "has offered to give Ettienne and Alex a ride back to Medellin. He has a medical transport and a couple of beds, so they can lie down and get checked out—that was a pretty hard beating Alex took there for a moment—and we can follow in our jeep. He's also called ahead and asked the transport that was supposed to carry Clayton and Olivia back to Miami to wait, and says there's enough room on there for all of us to go home on."

"Oh thank God, let's get out of this jungle hellhole!" Scarlett exclaimed, climbing to her feet. "Alex, come on. Leave this piece of crap here for the soldiers to dispose of." She took Alex's arm gently and guided her to the transport.

Ettienne was already lying on one stretcher, ribs bandaged and splinted, but he gave Alex a huge smile and held out his hand to her. Alex gave in to the doctor's urging that she lie down, but she reached across the space between their beds and linked fingers tightly with him. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be. I'm not," Ettienne grinned at her. "Alex, if it wasn't for dat piece of crap druglord out dere, I would never have met you. I've dated a lot of girls, a lot of dem have fallen for me, but I'd never fallen in love until I met you. I love you. And even if it don't work out…you're still the most amazing woman I've ever met."

"Ettienne." Alex squeezed his hand gently. "I've never met anyone like you, and I'm definitely looking forward to getting to know you better now that all this is over." She gave him a smile that lit up her face, even with the bruises and swelling. "You were saying something about a beach…?"

"Oh, there's a story that goes with that…" And he took his time telling her the story of the New Zealand trip with Scarlett and Snake Eyes, keeping her mind occupied as the doctor checked out her bruised face, stopped the bleeding from her swollen lip and fortunately-not-broken nose. He left them alone for a little while then, and when he came back an hour and a half later to tell them they were approaching Medellin, Alex lay on the edge of Ettienne's bed, both of them somehow managing to fit together on one, and both were asleep wrapped up in each other's arms.

"Olivia!"

Olivia started at the sound of Alex's voice, would have sat up in the bed and hugged her friend, but the doctor put a firm hand on her arm. "No sitting up," he said firmly, and Olivia gave him a dirty look but lay flat again. Alex flew across the room, running to Olivia's bedside as two nurses wheeled Ettienne's bed into another locking cradle on the transport, and the two women embraced, eyes not quite dry. Seeing this, the doctor left with the nurses. "Alex…"

"Liv…" They couldn't speak anymore for the tears that choked them, but then, they didn't have to. There were some things that words couldn't express, and this was one of them; their hug, the touch of hands, just the pronunciation of each other's names, was enough.

It was Olivia who finally broke off the embrace, lying back with a grimace. "You're too skinny, Alex."

Alex started to laugh as she sat in a chair bolted to the floor; under the soles of her boots, she felt the deck hum as the transport got ready to take off. 'Trust you to think of that first! But it's good to see you too, Fearless."

Olivia smiled at the familiar nickname, but her eyes were haunted. "You didn't see me back there when Sandra was—was torturing me."

"What happened?" Olivia took a quick glance over to one side of her; Clayton was sleeping, and on the other side Ettienne was also sleeping. She quietly told Alex everything that had happened since they'd been abducted from her apartment almost three weeks before.

"The bitch." Alex's fingers curled into fists. "The bitch, I'm going to find her and I'm going to kill her—"

"She wasn't there?" came a questioning voice from behind Olivia, and both women turned to Clayton's bed. His leg was in a cast, and his torso was heavily bandaged, but his fever had broken and he'd even regained some of his sense of humor, to judge by the glint in his eyes. "I shot her, so hopefully she's dead. Olivia was sort of out of it, she was dealing with the drugs Sandra pumped into her, so she wouldn't remember, but Sandra surprised us as we were escaping. She shot me, Olivia tackled her and kept her busy until I grabbed the gun and then I shot her with it." His eyes were dark. "I don't like hurting people. I accept that it's a necessity as a soldier but I don't like it. However, I really can't say that I'm going to regret shooting that twisted little bitch. I hope she died." His eyes softened as he looked at Olivia. "Seeing what she did to Liv…" he shook his head.

Alex looked at Olivia with her eyebrows raised, nodded her head in Clayton's direction. Olivia gave a grin that could only be described as sheepish, and shrugged, then held out one hand in Ettienne's direction. It was Alex's turn to look sheepish and shrug.

"Doesn't that just drive you crazy?" Ettienne's eyes had opened during the latter part of this exchange, and now he smiled lazily at Clayton. "This unwritten language women have. I couldn't make heads or tails out of that conversation."

Clayton grinned, shifted his bulk in the bed. "I couldn't either. I think that's going to have to be one of those things we'll just have to deal with while seeing these two—" he stopped. "You _are_ going to continue seeing Alex, right?"

"Yes," Alex, Ettienne, and Olivia all said together. Alex looked, amazed, at Olivia. Olivia grinned and shrugged again, palms up in a 'what else can I do?' gesture.

Alex addressed Clayton directly. "You _are_ going to continue seeing Olivia, right?"

"Yes," Clayton nodded.

"But what about the no off-base entanglement rule?" Ettienne asked Clayton now. "I was all ready to ask for reassignment to Fort Hamilton so I could keep seeing Alex."

"Listen to me, soldier. You are not taking my chess partner away from me. No one else on base thinks like she does, and she plays a mean game. I'm going to have to brush up on my skills or she'll wipe the floor with me every time." Ettienne chuckled. "But no, seriously." Clayton sobered as she relaxed against the pillows. "Liv showed me what a foolish, thickheaded old general I was being, to allow on-base relationships between some of my soldiers but not allow off-base relationships. "He closed his eyes, and a look of guilt crossed his face. "I didn't even know you had Liv's station staked out and were watching her. I wonder how many of my soldiers had off base relationships I didn't know about, and how many of those off-base relationships never even knew what happened to those soldiers who never came back?"

"The answer to that is none," came a new voice from the door, and all four in the room turned as Shana, Snake Eyes, Wayne, and Courtney came in. They'd taken just enough time to collect their bags from the hotel and check out, then hopped on the transport, changed out of their uniforms and were now in off-duty olive and white, and they all looked considerably more relaxed as they ranged themselves on chairs and empty beds around the four occupants of the medical bay. Shana was the one who'd spoken. "Clayton, we knew how you felt, but we didn't think it was fair. So when someone didn't come back, we'd make a special trip off base as soon as we could and we went to tell the significant other what happened." She folded her arms. "Usually it was me and Allie, or Courtney and Wayne, plus whoever had been on the mission with the fallen soldier."

"I never knew." Clayton looked stunned.

"I know you didn't. We deliberately didn't tell you. Allie told us how you hated death notice duty, and she was the one who arranged all of this. She said," and a smile curved her lips, "She said that you weren't good at it anyway, that you came off as too stiff and that could give the impression of not having cared. We know different; we know that's because you care too much, that's why you imposed the rule, so that was why we took care of it for you. And we don't mind, Clayton."

"Liar," Alex said, and every eye turned to her as she faced Shana. "It hurts. You and Snake Eyes trained everyone here, even Clayton. When someone dies you feel just as responsible, maybe more." At Shana's quizzical look, she said, "Allie."

Shana rolled her eyes. "I swear to God I'm going to shoot her." The smile belied the words.

"So." Courtney broke the comfortable silence that fell after those words. "Where do we go from here? This mission has so totally engulfed our lives for the last four months."

"Well, home for one," Wayne said, and faint chuckles broke out around the room.

"Yes, but…where is home, for Alex? Clayton, can she stay with us on base until the whole mess is straightened out and she can get her social security number and documentation reinstated?"

"Uh-uh. She's staying with me. I have a second bedroom, Alex, you know that, you've crashed in it so many times that it's practically your room." Olivia's eyes glinted in mischief. "Not to mention which, it'll be easier for Clayton and Ettienne to come visit both of us if we're so conveniently in the same apartment." More chuckles.

"I had a few thoughts about that, and as the ranking officer here, my word goes." Clayton levered himself to a sitting position, wincing slightly as the bullet wound in his side pulled a bit. "First, when we get back, Liv gets her own quarters while she recovers, and I want to get her some military training—as a cop it'll definitely help, and besides, she could teach our guys a few things about shooting. She's a mean shot, she could probably give Recoil a run for his money. Then, once she and I are well enough to travel, I'm taking Olivia and Ettienne is taking Alex to that little beach in New Zealand Shana and Snake Eyes fell in love with."

"But that's _our_ beach!" But Shana didn't sound all that unhappy about it.

"I'm thinking about establishing a small base hospital there for our people. Sun, sand, surf, quiet and privacy—everything convalescing soldiers need to fully recover and heal. It'll also be a nice leave base for those who aren't injured—and you won't have to worry about lost luggage," with a sly wink at Shana, who blushed as bright as her hair as Snake Eyes grinned at her. "By the time we get back, hopefully the whole mess will have blown over, Alex will have her paperwork back, and she and Liv can set up house at her apartment until such time as she can get one of her own again."

"And until that happens, there will be two soldiers dropping by once in a while to make sure none of Velez's associates decide to take revenge?" Shana asked.

"Quite probably, unless the two ladies in question mind." Clayton grinned cheerfully. "I rather get the feeling that quite a few soldiers will be dropping by to say hi, not just myself and Ettienne."

"Allie and I will stop by," Shana told Alex cheerfully. "And Snake Eyes and I are taking you up on that offer to take us out to those places you were talking about with the silent nights." At Olivia's quizzical look, she said, "I think Alex said it was a place called Club Atlantis and somewhere called the Europa bar?"

"Oh, you'll love it there. You'll fit right in at Europa. Um…Alex, I'm not sure about Atlantis, though."

"Atlantis?" Clayton said sharply.

"You've heard of it?"

"I don't know if…I mean, guys and girls go there, but it's kind of skewed toward girls…"

Wayne broke into a belly laugh and crossed the medical bay, pulling out his cellphone as he went. "General, if you think Shana's going to have a problem, you haven't seen this," and he handed his cellphone to Clayton as he cued a video. Clayton's mouth fell open as he saw Courtney, Alex, and Shana wrapped around each other on the dance floor at Club Mangos, clearly enjoying themselves.

Shana's face was the same color as her hair as she made a grab for the cellphone and missed as a small pocket of turbulence made her lose her footing. "Wayne!" She howled. "I swear you're going to pay for this the next time I get you on the mat!"

Clayton's words just added fuel to the fire. "Why Shana, I never knew. Maybe Snake Eyes should have a poster of _you_ wearing feathered wings on the ceiling of _his_ room."

_**"Wayne!"**_


	18. Chapter 80: Miami

**Chapter 80: Miami**

"Welcome home!"

Chief General Hall greeted the Joes as they stepped off the plane onto the army transport runway at US Army Garrison Miami. The dropped their bags and gave crisp salutes; from his bed, Clayton did too and Olivia, after an amused glance at Alex standing at full attention, did the same.

Hall didn't miss the glance. "Yes, she seems to have completely assimilated into the military culture, hasn't she?" he smiled. "Private Cabot. It's wonderful to see you again." Then he frowned at the bruises on her face. "Not entirely unscathed, however."

"But Velez is dead and isn't a factor anymore. I think that's a win."

"Yes, it was a win, but that was too high a price for you to have to pay," Hall said quietly, and locked gazes with Alex for a moment. She finally inclined her head slightly in his direction, an acknowledgement that he was right, and he sighed. "All right. I'm sure you're eager to get home. Let's get you all checked out and stabilized for the ride to Fort Hamilton. I realize the doctor at the FOB in Medellin did some repair work on all of you but I want to make sure you're all okay." The Joes broke off into a group that included Corporal Simes, Alex walked beside Olivia's gurney, and Hall fell into step beside the gurney that carried Clayton. "You got a good bunch of soldiers there, Clayton."

"I know. The best." The pride in Clayton's voice was evident.

"I could almost forget Private Cabot isn't really a private. She shares a lot of common traits with your people—and with every other soldier I know." And he smiled. "When she was here last she stood up in mission briefing and gave me a lesson in honor that I'll probably remember for the rest of my life just because it came from such an unexpected source."

"She has that effect on people," Clayton said dryly.

"And this other woman; Private Cabot's friend, the police officer—you know the brass is going to rake you over the coals for getting kidnapped along with her." He saw Clayton's look. "Not from me; I'm not your superior, even though I rank you. I'm not going to say a word. But Lieutenant General Johnson's been practically living at your base since you were kidnapped and I'm sure he's going to have a few things to say about that."

"I know. I'm sure too. I know I broke the rules by going out to let Detective Benson know that her friend was safe but at the time I first contacted her we were still not sure if Private Cabot was going to make it, and I thought it important that Ms. Benson should at least be aware of it so we could let her say goodbye if it came down to that."

"And would Detective Benson have made it out if it weren't for you?"

"Out, no. They shot her up with a lot of illegal drugs so she would hallucinate while they were frying her with electricity. Her job in the NYPD involves investigating crimes against children; baby-rapers, pedophiles, child pornographers, child serial killers—I got a glimpse of what was in her head during that…that torture session…and I'll tell you, she has to be made of pretty strong stuff to be able to do that job as long as she has. Both she and Alex; she investigates and Alex prosecutes them.

"As to whether she would have made it out without me, no, she probably wouldn't have. She was pretty out of it, and she nearly died during our escape when withdrawal from the effects of those drugs sent her hyperthermic and her body started shutting down. When Velez dropped a grenade on our escape vehicle and it created a landslide that sent us down into the river—he actually did us a favor because if we hadn't gotten to the water when we did, and if we hadn't landed at just the right angle in just the right depth, she would have died.

"But neither would I have made it out without her—the grenade crumpled the side of our escape vehicle and it broke my leg then too—I was out of it. I'll never know how she managed to get me out of the jeep; she says she doesn't remember it clearly because of the drugs. But she did, and when I woke up I found a cave nearby and we holed up there for two days until she was ready to travel. Then once we started trying to find a way out Corporal Simes found us, and together he and Olivia carried me almost five miles downriver to a tourist outlook. Corporal Simes went for a vehicle to take us to Medellin the rest of the way, and he left Olivia his knife and gun to defend us with if Velez's men found us while we were there. Two of them did, and Olivia managed to kill one man who attempted to rape her with the knife, and then shot the other man and since she was lying on the ground at the moment the recoil drove her elbow into the concrete and broke it. So it was an effort from all three of us that got Olivia and I out of that mess, and Corporal Simes had as much to do with it as we did. I'm going to talk to him at some point on this trip about applying for our project and if he agrees I'm going to requisition him in my report."

"That's going to be a very interesting report."

Clayton chuckled as they turned the door into the military infirmary. "Yes, it will be."

He endured the poking and prodding the doctors at Miami Garrison put him through and saw the surprise on his officers' faces; his distaste for doctors was near-legendary on base. Beach Head, Scarlett, Snake Eyes and Cover Girl watched in stunned silence as he cooperated with the doctors, barely flinching when they poked him a little too hard, when they changed his dressing. As they moved to Olivia's bed, Beach Head leaned in. "Boy, General, Doc would have a fit if he saw how nice you're being right now with these docs."

"Olivia hates doctors even more, I found that out when we were shot at outside Knickerbocker's. Instead of getting checked out by the EMTs who responded to the scene I took her home and pulled glass out of her hands and bandaged her skinned hands and knees. This time, though, I can't do that. So she'll cooperate if she sees me cooperating."

"Riiight," Scarlett drawled.

Clayton looked insulted. "Would I lie to you?"

"Yep." Beach Head nodded.

"In a heartbeat," Cover Girl added. Snake Eyes just nodded.

Clayton rolled his eyes.

As soon as the Gulfstream was underway Clayton asked Beach Head to have Corporal Simes come to the medical bay, and then he asked Beach Head, Scarlett, and the rest of the team to assemble. The young corporal looked clearly uneasy when he walked into the medical bay and saw the Joes standing there, but he saluted crisply. "You wanted to see me Sir!"

"Relax, Corporal," Hawk said, keeping his voice low. "Alex and Olivia are asleep, so keep your voice down." He indicated the other two beds. Although Alex insisted she was physically fine and x-rays proved the punches she'd taken to her cheekbone hadn't dislodged the plate Doc had placed there to keep the broken piece in place, the docs here had given her something for the pain in her face and the swelling and insisted she get some sleep; something which, despite her protests to the contrary, she seemed all too willing to do. "You did a lot for us out there, Corporal. And your reaction to Alex when you saw her tells me even more about you than you did."

Simes flushed. When he'd seen Alex lying in bed after coming in with the Joe team at Medellin FOB he'd stared for a moment, then blurted out her name. She'd looked at him curiously, smiling, then asked, "How do you know me?"

"I…uh…I was part of the UN force that went to Nzoka, supposedly to wipe out the militia faction," he said. "Ms. Cabot...on behalf of my commander and the troops I was with….I'm sorry for what we did. I…the commander should never have yanked the blanket off you and just…showed everybody what you look like. I was horrified and so were some of the others but we didn't speak up, we didn't yell at him for what he did and I am so sorry for that, Ma'am."

"I don't remember the incident you're talking about, Corporal," Alex said.

"Um…you were unconscious, Ma'am—"

"Hold it right there," she'd said then, stopping him in midsentence. "As I understand it, 'Ma'am' is a title reserved for higher ranking female officers. Since I'm a private, I'm under you, and I should be calling you 'Sir'."

"Ma'am, you've been through more than most commanding officers I've known. I don't care what it says on paper, you've earned my respect. See, I grew up in foster care with my little sister—her name's Alexandra too—after our parents died in a car accident and some of those foster homes were mean—I remember coming home one day and our foster dad was beating Alex with his belt after he made her take her pants down and I remember holding her hand for a couple of days when she cried with pain because of the bruises. What happened to you was….so much worse…than what happened to her and I can't imagine how that must have felt or what you went through to survive it. And you…and you look really, really good right now and I just…I just still felt I had to apologize for what happened. My Dad told me while I was growing up that all it takes for evil to win is for good people to stand by and do nothing and all I did was stand by when the Commander exposed you. And I'm…I'm so sorry."

"Did you stand by when your foster dad was beating your little sister?"

"No, I—I took the belt he was hitting her with and I hit him with it. I kinda don't remember much between the time I came home from school and found him hitting her and the time the neighbors heard him yelling and called the police but he didn't have to go to the hospital or anything, and they put us in a group home after that. There was a court case, our foster Dad charged me with assault but the social worker who took us out of there had pictures of Lexi's bruises and the judge told me he understood and he dismissed the case. And that's why this was bugging me so much, Ma'am…I should have done for you what I did for my little sister and I didn't."

"I'm not your little sister."

"But you're still human, Ma'am. And you're entitled to the same respect that everybody else would. That commander would have objected if anybody took his clothes off while he was sleeping so why would he do that to you? It wasn't right. It wasn't fair."

Alex regarded him thoughtfully. "I'm not going to talk you out of feeling guilty, am I, Corporal."

"No, Ma'am."

She smiled gently at him. "Then I accept your apology, Corporal." He gave an audible sigh of relief, as if a weight had just been lifted off his shoulders, and she said, "And to prevent you from getting in any more trouble, you should probably go back to quarters, if the doctors find you here they'll get mad at you and then _I'll_ feel guilty."

He grinned at her. "Gotcha, Ma'am."

"I was in the next bed but I wasn't asleep," General Hawk said now to Simes, who flushed red. "I heard what you said, and I think it was a brave thing you did. If you hadn't spoken Alex would never have known—we hadn't told her the exact details of how we got her home, preferring instead to focus on her recovery. But you felt strongly enough about your actions—or in this case, lack of them—to face her and apologize even knowing that she could be upset, even angry at you. That takes courage, and kindness and compassion and a sense of fairness and justice that I look for in a soldier.

"I don't know how much about us you know, may have overheard, or figured out on your own, but we're a top-secret highly-classified project. I'm the one responsible for picking the soldiers that join us, and I'm asking you now if you'll object to my requesting your transfer to my squad. Now before you say yes or no, or ask a question, let me explain to you that at this moment I cannot give you any other details. I can't tell you where we're located, I can't tell you what we do, who we really are, and how many other soldiers I have. None of those details can be revealed before you've accepted the assignment and signed the classified nondisclosure agreements.

"But you've met the other soldiers I've chosen for this assignment. First Sergeant Conrad Hauser, who you met back in the DRC; you've met my soldiers here, Master Sergeant Shana O'Hara, Master Sergeant Snake Eyes, Warrant Officer Wayne Sneedon, Marine Gunnery Sergeant Ettienne LaFitte, Corporal Courtney Krieger," and each of the officers named nodded slightly in turn. Courtney added a wink, which General Hawk chose to ignore. "Yes, we do cross branches and disciplines. And I'm not going to lie to you, what we do is dangerous and I have had people who didn't come back from some of our missions. But you will have the best training that the US military can offer you and a group of soldiers by your side who feel the same as you do, who feel that courage, human compassion, kindness and justice are more important than mere orders, and who will make a conscious decision to disobey those orders if they don't agree with them.

"And you will also have a commander who, despite his tendency toward thickheadedness," Simes looked mystified, and Courtney turned her stifled laughter into a choked cough, "will accept that you may have reasons for disobeying orders and will listen to your side with an open mind before deciding on a course of action. Now that does mean that you'd better have a damn good reason for disobeying, but if I can see your side and see your point, I may not be as upset as another commander might be. I pride myself on being tough but fair, and you can ask any of my officers here whether that has been true." Nods all around.

Chris thought for a moment; another good sign. Then he said, "Sir, I appreciate you thinking me good enough to join your project. I appreciate the offer. I will do my best to be worthy of that consideration and your respect. I've met your officers; I remember Corporal Krieger and Gunnery Sergeant LaFitte from the DRC and I am honored and proud that you consider me to be of the same caliber as your current officers."

General Hawk grinned. "The honor is mine, Corporal. Here's how this is going to go. This transport will drop us off at Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn, New York, and you'll remain there while we go on to our base; I'll sign temporary reassignment papers placing you there. You may still have to fly back to Manta to get any personal items you may have there, or the Army can have them shipped here. Once you have everything and the paperwork has been pushed through, Fort Hamilton will notify me and we'll come pick you up."


	19. Chapter 81: Hamilton

**Chapter 81: Hamilton**

Fort Hamilton was exactly the way Alex remembered it. The same young corporal met them, saluted them, told them Colonel Gold was slightly tied up at the moment and would meet them shortly.

There was even the commotion at the gates.

Colonel Michael Gold met General Hawk, the Joes, Olivia and Alex just inside the service entrance, where the visitors would be less likely to see them. "Thank God you're home," he said fervently as he saluted General Hawk, sitting in a wheelchair with his broken leg propped on a footrest.

"What's all the commotion about at the gate?" Hawk peered interestedly at the knot of soldiers standing at the front gate.

"The local law enforcement. They've been here practically every day since you've been gone wanting to see you and speak to you about Ms. Benson's kidnapping."

"He did say he wanted to question you about the drive-by when I got suspended and I assume that didn't change after the kidnapping," Olivia told him from where she sat in the wheelchair beside him, grinning. "I would have liked to see his face when Soldier Abernathy became General Abernathy and was on a classified base!"

"He did look nonplussed for a moment," Colonel Michael Gold smiled, then sobered. "But he's been calling or coming practically every day. I understand that Chief of Detectives wanting to know what's happened to his highly-decorated police department veteran, and I can even understand that Detective Stabler and Captain Cragen are friends as well as coworkers, but why that IAB man Tucker feels the need to come with them is beyond me."

"Tucker's here?" Olivia craned her neck to try and catch a glimpse of the knot of people at the door. "Damn. He's like a bad penny, he shows up just when I don't need him."

Clayton thought for a moment. "Colonel, I'm sure you'd like these men to stop knocking your door down every day," and Gold nodded fervently. "If I spoke with Mr. Tucker and this Chief of Detectives, privately, in a closed office somewhere, perhaps we could allow Private Cabot and Olivia some time with Elliot and Don?"

"Sounds good to me. Anything to get these men to stop coming to my base and calling every day!" Gold turned to the corporal. "Go escort our visitors to Visitors' Waiting. When General Abernathy is ready, send the two ranking men in. Private Cabot and Miss Benson can meet with their coworkers in the waiting room." The corporal nodded and quick-marched off.

As soon as the Chief of Detectives and Sergeant Tucker walked in Clayton knew why Olivia disliked Tucker. Not just because of his job, but…Clayton didn't like him either. He reminded Clayton of a saguaro cactus, tall and thin and straight and the open hostility in his eyes, the hard penetrating glare, made Clayton feel this man would have been a good interrogator.

He shook hands with the Chief of Detectives, then raised an eyebrow when Tucker saluted. "Military man?" he asked.

"I was Staff Sergeant at Fairchild, SERE training specialist," Tucker said easily, and Clayton abruptly revised some of his earlier impressions of the man. Being selected to, and subsequently completing, the course required to become a SERE specialist and train soldiers in SERE tactics indicated someone much tougher under the skin. And even though Clayton knew the psych profiles of SERE instructors weeded out the psychos, he would have been willing to bet the man secretly enjoyed seeing others squirm. Just a little. And Clayton was also willing to bet that some of Tucker's apparent friendliness was his attempt to get information; apparently his military training had carried over to his job as an Internal Affairs investigator. Clayton was pretty sure those tactics were why Olivia didn't like him much.

Hell, he didn't like the man much either, but at least he knew how to handle the man. "Please have a seat," he said, smiling disarmingly as he indicated two chairs on the other side of Colonel Gold's desk; the man had kindly allowed Clayton to use his office for this interview. "I understand you're here to speak with me about the drive-by outside the restaurant three weeks ago, and about Ms. Benson's kidnapping. I will answer your questions as best as I'm able, but a great deal of it is classified at this point, and as we are not entirely sure the threat has been completely eliminated, there will be a great deal I can't tell you. Is that understood?" the men nodded. "Detective Benson was unwittingly drawn into the middle of a classified situation and is not responsible for anything that has happened, However, because of her involuntary involvement, she has had to sign some pretty binding nondisclosure agreements regarding this affair and there will also be things she cannot answer."

His tone hardened, along with his eyes, as he glared at Tucker. "You will not press the issue with Detective Benson. We have placed clear boundaries on the extent of the information she is allowed to reveal about the entire operation. Given her current fragile state of health after the last three weeks, if any information gets out that shouldn't have she will not be held responsible for the breach in confidentiality; I will hold you responsible for interrogation of a civilian that violates her Geneva Convention rights."

"Detective Benson is injured?" The Chief of Detectives was trying to defuse the open hostility in the room by changing the subject, a stroke of tact that Clayton appreciated as he backed off the edge of anger he'd been riding at the thought of Tucker trying psychological interrogation tactics on Olivia.

"Detective Benson was kidnapped from her home, held captive by an obsessed madman, and tortured. While she is recovering, her health is fragile and our doctors are working on her PTSD." It wasn't as bad as Alex's had been, but he'd heard Olivia crying in her sleep and knew the entire incident was likely going to haunt her—and him—for years to come. Added to that, she was still sore and the tears in her soft tissue had become infected due to their extended time in the jungle. "We intend to keep her under our medical supervision for at least another two or three weeks—you'll have to agree that she will get better care than she would in a regular hospital—but when she returns to work you will avoid distressing her while you ask questions. If she experiences any setbacks in her recovery that can be directly attributable to your attempts to inveigle details of her experience out of her you will be subject to the extreme displeasure of the US Army. Is that clear?" He didn't know exactly what could be done to back up that threat, since Tucker was no longer US military, but he'd figure something out.

He was rewarded by Tucker's looking uneasy, and the man agreed a little too quickly. "Yes, Sir,' and Clayton hid a smile as he wondered if Tucker realized he'd unconsciously slipped back into military discipline. Good. "Now, please ask any questions you wish. If I answer them now you won't need to disturb Detective Benson."

"Alex! Liv!" There was absolutely no mistaking the joy and relieved happiness on Elliot and Don's face as they watched Olivia coming in, sitting in a wheelchair Alex was pushing. Elliot leaned in and hugged her tightly, not speaking; they'd been partners for so long that no words needed to be said. They just knew.

Don gave Alex a tight hug, his own heart aching as he felt the thinness of her body, the sharpness of bones just under the heavy fatigues. Whatever had happened, it had taken a heavy toll on both Alex and Olivia, and he suspected that they'd be unwilling to talk for a while, not just because of the gag order but also because of the painful memories they had evoked. He'd hidden his reaction well when he'd seen her scarred face, knowing it would be barely noticeable when it faded, but he had wondered over the last three weeks what physical scars had been hidden under the fatigues, and he'd also been afraid of what mental scars were hidden under the veneer of military discipline. It wasn't that he thought they'd brainwash Alex, but since she was compelled to spend time with them for the moment he was worried she'd adopt the military discipline in order to cope with what happened to her and sooner or later that would catch up with her.

But her hug now was warm and genuinely affectionate, and her smile reassured him. "I'm fine, Don. Really."

"Are you coming home?"

Alex and Olivia exchanged uncertain looks. "At this moment I'm not sure where we go from here," Alex finally said. "There's not a lot we can tell you due to the nondisclosures we signed but I can tell you that Cesar Velez mobilized his entire network of thugs, not just in Colombia but also around the world, and used that network to pursue me for the last five years. He is dead now, but there are still some untied loose ends and General Abernathy's thinking is that some of those loose ends might prove a threat. Given Olivia's current state of health and vulnerability, I think it likely that they'll want to keep us on base for at least a little while, not only to let us recover but to try and tie up a couple of those loose ends."

Olivia said with a grin, "I'm guessing this whole affair is going to end up as a John Munch Conspiracy Special at some point, and I'm going to have to bite my tongue when he starts going off because I'm pretty sure most of this will never become public record." Her smile grew wider. "Well, if he starts going off, all I have to do is mention 'Shaft.'"

"How'd you find out about that?" Elliot looked startled—and alarmed. Then he looked at Alex and said, "Ettienne told you, didn't he."

"Um, Ettienne told Clayton, and Clayton told me."

Elliot closed his eyes, groaned. "I'm never going to live that down. Jeez, I can hear Fin and Munch already."

"Does Kathy know?' Olivia's eyes were sparkling with mischievous humor.

"No, and you're not going to tell her!" Elliot said rather desperately.

"What are you talking about?" Alex asked curiously.

"Elliot's code name while he was in the Marines."

"Shaft?" Alex frowned. "What's wrong with that?"

"Elliot took a girl out one night and hit the comm button to get let back in. Problem was that he forgot to turn it off. The whole base heard her—I think 'enthusiastic' was the word Clayton told me Ettienne used—and the next day he'd been tagged with the name 'Shaft'."

Elliot flushed.

Alex grinned at him. "You know, that's a very becoming shade of pink." She turned to Liv. "Isn't it?"

"Yep."

Don had been sitting back watching this exchange between his officers, happy to have his little group back together, but now he cleared his throat. "I think we're coming up on the end of our allotted time. I wish you were coming back with us. I want all of you home. You too, Alex." He sighed. "Since I'm obviously not going to get that, at least not yet, just please promise me that you'll come back." He fixed Alex with a penetrating stare. "Both of you."

"Yes, Dad," Alex and Olivia chorused in unison, a holdover from the days when she was their ADA and he'd informally adopted her into his unit. Then Alex saw the obvious concern he was trying desperately to hide, and gave him a tight, understanding hug. "I promise I'll come back, Don," she said quietly. "And no, I'm not leaving again. New York is home and although I do want to go back to The Hague one more time, just to say goodbye, I want to come home as much as you want me home. Velez fraudulently emptied my bank account and I have no money and nothing to start over with, but I'll manage. Liv's offered me her spare room for the moment."

"I don't care where you call home, Alex. I just want you safe. Alex, dear God, if I'd known Cesar Velez had been hunting you since you took out Gaviria, I'd…"

"You'd have done what, Don? Gone out and hunted him yourself? Gotten some old army buddies of yours to do it? No, as much as I hate some parts of the road that's gotten us this far, I think this was the only way I would have ever have gotten rid of Velez. Which reminds me." She reached through the side slit in her fatigue pants, took out the old gun Don had given her so long ago. "You gave me this a long time ago to protect myself with. It's fulfilled its purpose."

Don took it, carefully, looking at it…and then smiled even as his eyes teared up at the sight of Alex's name burned into the grip. "You really made it yours. I can't take it back, Alex. It's a part of you now. Keep it as a reminder." He placed the gun back in her hand, closed her fingers around it, and grabbed Elliot's arm. "Come on. Let's let them go before the Chief and Tucker find out we've been keeping secrets from them."

Alex was quiet as she pushed Olivia's wheelchair back to the garage bay where their transport, and their new friends, waited to take them to temporary sanctuary. "Are you ever going to tell him where that gun's been—and what Zimurinda did to you with it?" Olivia asked quietly.

"I don't know. Maybe someday. But not now."


	20. Chapter 82: Home

**Chapter 82: Home**

Flint and Lieutenant General Johnson got up smiling as Clayton limped in, his crutches tapping out an uneven rhythm on the polished floor. "You look a little the worse for wear."

"Yeah, well, I'm an old thickheaded general and I've been around the world a few times, so I think I'm allowed," Clayton grumbled as he hauled himself across the room and carefully leaned the crutches against the desk before grabbing his chair and pulling it the rest of the way toward him, then sat down in it with a sigh. "I never thought I'd welcome the sight of this old desk."

"I heard it was rough," Flint took the crutches and leaned them against the wall, out of the way but still in easy reach of Clayton's arms if he needed to get up.

"Yeah, and I have the broken leg to prove it." Clayton leaned back in his desk chair, took a few deep breaths, and sighed, then opened them and looked at Flint. "The roughest part—the hardest part—is watching someone being tortured and not being able to do anything about it. Jesus, Dash, I don't know how you managed to watch Alex being tortured and not go insane; the whole time Olivia was screaming all I wanted to do was paint the room red."

The two men's eyes met over Clayton's desk, haunted with memories but full of understanding. "It's a little worse for you because you were actually in a relationship with Liv. Alex and I were just friends before this, and we'd only met when the mission started."

Clayton blew out his breath. "Okay, I'll give you that. But honestly, I wouldn't be here now if it weren't for Olivia, because after our jeep went over the cliff and I broke my leg she pretty much got us out." There was more he wanted to say but that would have to wait until he was private with Dash; as much as he liked Lieutenant General Johnson, he wasn't sure if the man would understand—or approve—of him shooting Sandra Velasquez. His report would say only that he'd shot her while she was trying to prevent his and Olivia's escape.

Johnson cleared his throat, capturing both men's attentions. "I hate to interrupt you, but don't hand over the reins just yet, Warrant Officer. General Abernathy, I was told to inform you that the President, the Joint Chiefs, and the Secretary of Defense are requesting that you and a select group of your officers, plus Private Cabot, make the trip to Washington to testify before them and a select group of international agency heads."

He sobered. "The UN Secretary General, the President, Vice President, Prosecutor and Deputy Prosecutor of the ICC will be attending as well. I believe you remember the Deputy Prosecutor Judith Donnelly." Clayton nodded, grinning faintly. "The Permanent Representative of Columbia to the United States will also be there." At Clayton's blank look, he said, "The Colombian Ambassador. And the Colombian President will be attending. The orders just came down yesterday. You were already in transit and I didn't feel that it was necessary to possibly compromise the confidentiality of the information, and I wanted to inform you who else would be attending." He leaned in. "The Colombian ambassador will be bringing his aide—and that aide is the one who Private Cabot implicated in the conspiracy against her."

Clayton flushed hot, then went coldly thoughtful. "Velez is dead. He will have nothing to gain and everything to lose by trying an attack against Alex in open court, but I don't want to take chances. You said a select group of my officers are requested to accompany me? Anyone in particular or do I get to choose?"

"Master Sergeant Shana O'Hara is requested to attend as the operative who went undercover at the ICC. You, as the commanding officer of the entire classified project. Alex Cabot, of course, and it would be better if she did not appear wearing military dress; civilian will be fine." He cleared his throat. "I saw her when she came in; that's a spectacular set of bruises on her face. If we can get her in front of the Joint Chiefs, the president, the Cabinet and all these foreign dignitaries before they fade, she could get them on her side just by the way she looks. And Warrant Officer Faireborn, as the commander of the original team that started it all."

"Hmm. Well, Scarlett's our best in hand-to-hand combat, so if something happens on the floor we'll be protected. All right. Let me inform my people."

Johnson nodded. "Depending on how quickly they can be packed and ready, you and your people can probably travel with me, since I've been requested to appear too, to testify to my knowledge—or lack of it—as to General Clancy's activities. I was planning on leaving tomorrow morning."

"My people can be ready at a moment's notice. As for Alex, though…she doesn't have much, and I don't think she has anything suitable for such a gathering. Our focus as far as her wardrobe is concerned has been on things that wouldn't impede changing her bandages and hampering her recovery. She's upright and mobile, and she killed Velez with her own gun, but I wouldn't say she's recovered. She's still on several different medications, including at least one for pain, on our doctor's orders."

Flint spoke with a glint of amusement in his eye. "Gentlemen, I wouldn't worry about her clothes. Allie, Shana, and Courtney have some nice civilian clothes and I'm sure Alex will have her pick of whatever is in their closets. All you have to do is tell the girls what Alex should wear and take ourselves safely out of the picture. They'll handle it without our help. Or input."

"Then let's do that. Well, it's been a long day, I'm tired, and you two have to pack, so I'll say goodnight." He nodded to the two Joes and left.

Clayton sighed after Johnson had gone. "Well, I was looking forward to staying home for a while, but it looks like duty calls. I knew sooner or later we'd be called to an accounting for what happened."

"We've done our best in this whole mess, Clayton. I don't see that we have anything to be sorry for."

"Except for…personal conduct. Dash…just between us, mind you, I don't want it going any further than the two of us because I don't know if Olivia remembers and if she doesn't I don't want her to find out this way, but…When Doc explained to me that you weren't responsible for raping Alex…I didn't really understand until I was in the same situation with Olivia."

Dash froze, eyes wide. "You…"

"Yes." Clayton closed his eyes. "I'm going to have nightmares about that for the rest of my life. She was already in so much pain…that twisted bitch Sandra fried her with electricity at the same time she was pumping massive doses of drugs into her. Cocaine, meth, GHB, scopolamine…she suffered through some vicious withdrawal, and when we got to Medellin FOB none of the female doctors could touch her. The Colombian accent, I think, but even though she hasn't attacked Alex yet I can see her flinching whenever Alex gets close. Alex is trying not to let on how much it hurts—she understands but it hurts. And I feel so damn guilty—like I should have done something different, something to keep her from having been kidnapped."

"There wasn't anything you could have done, Clayton. You couldn't have exactly brought her here to keep her safe. And…maybe you getting kidnapped with her was the best thing that could have happened. If Velez really wanted Olivia he would have gotten her some way; we all know how persistent and determined he is, after chasing Alex for five years. You said it yourself, she wouldn't have gotten out without you."

"And I wouldn't have gotten out without her. I owe her my life."

"Yes. So what happened was the best thing that could have happened for everyone."

"Speaking of which," Clayton reached for his crutches, levered himself to a standing position and fitted the crutches under his arm. "Let's go tell the girls to pack."

It was no surprise to the two men that Olivia, Alex, Allie, Shana and Courtney were all gathered in Olivia's room. Clayton had given orders for one to be given her because he didn't know how long she would be with them. While she seemed mostly okay, he knew the doctors wanted to monitor her closely; the infection seemed to be worrying them, and he'd seen for himself how tired she was, how she didn't seem to have a lot of energy and she was sleeping a great deal. He was privately worried it might be due to the drugs she'd been given, but hadn't had a chance to ask the doctors about it, and now it would have to wait until he got back.

The girls turned to look at Dash and Clayton as the two men paused in the door, uncertain. The sudden pause in conversation made the two men think the conversation might have been about them, a fact that was proven moments later by Allie's saying, with poisonous sweetness, "Well, it's nice to see you've finally come to your senses about off-base relationships, Clayton."

Clayton felt his face flush, and hoped it wasn't too obvious. Olivia's poker face but sparkling eyes made him think it wasn't, so he quickly steered the conversation down a different track. "Lieutenant General Johnson will be leaving tomorrow morning for Washington and he wants Dash, Shana, Alex and myself to accompany him. The president's called a meeting with the joint chiefs and the Defense cabinet, and there will be a delegation from the ICC and from Colombia there as well."

Shana went very, very still. "Is one of the Colombian delegation the one Alex implicated in the conspiracy?" she asked, too softly.

"Lieutenant General Johnson thinks so, yes."

Alex went pale, but Shana said, "Don't worry, Alex. No one will dare do anything with all the secret service and security around. And I'll be there."

Alex still looked uneasy—and then the unease changed to dismay as she looked down at herself. "I can't wear fatigues to a meeting with the president! And I have nothing else to wear!"

"Lieutenant General Johnson said no fatigues," Clayton said.

Allie spoke up. "You're about my height, Alex. And Shana's. I think you might have a bit more chest than I do but we should still be able to find something for you to wear." She looked at the door. "All right. Scoot. We don't have a lot of time to find Alex a decent wardrobe to meet the president in, so I'll see you later, Dash, and Clayton, we'll hold off on that talk till later. You're not off the hook, just until you get back." She stepped toward them, and before the two men knew it they were staring at a closed door.

Dash shook his head bemusedly as the two men turned and walked down the hall. "How does she do that?"

Clayton sighed resignedly. "It's got to be a woman thing." He bridled at Dash's glare. "Hey, I'm just a thickheaded old General. What do I know about women?"

"No. Absolutely not."

Allie folded her arms and tried to keep her patience. "Alex. We don't have a lot to choose from, and no way at all to go shopping, so this will have to do. You're too skinny for most of our clothes, we have a lot more muscle than you, but you have a bit more chest. No, don't apologize, I'm sure Ettienne appreciates it." A smile as Alex turned bright pink. "But seriously, this is the only thing we have that will work."

Alex turned uncertainly back to the mirror. From the waist down she looked fine; the navy-blue knee length tailored suit skirt hugged her hips and made her long legs look even longer, and she knew Ettienne would say she looked great.

It was the top she minded. A thin spaghetti-strap cami top made of the same navy-blue fabric as the suit's skirt, the top of the bodice cut high enough to hide the scars on her breasts with no sign of cleavage. But the thin straps didn't hide the scars on her upper arms, or the top and back of her shoulders, and the back of the bodice came up just far enough to cover a strapless bra (which Courtney had provided) but not far enough to hide the worst of the scarring on her shoulder blades.

Granted the suit had a jacket, and if she really wanted to hide the scars, she could simply not take the jacket off. But… "It's July in Washington DC. It'll be roasting and I can't take the jacket off without scaring every damn person on the street with the scars."

"Alex." Shana faced her with her hands on her hips. "Wear the damn suit. You literally can't not wear it, it's the only thing any of us have that even comes close to fitting; if you weren't so damn skinny you'd fit into Courtney's stuff but you are and you can't. We don't care about your scars, Alex, don't you understand that yet? Remember what Snake Eyes said? You got those scars in battle, Alex, honorably. You've endured something unthinkable that those idiots in Washington will never even come close to understanding. So don't try to hide them. Be proud of them. Be proud of who you are."

She stopped speaking as they heard a knock on the door. Ettienne said, on the other side, "Alex?"

Shana pulled the door open, grabbed Ettienne, pulled him inside and planted him in front of Alex. "What do you see?"

"I see a beautiful woman." Ettienne looked at Alex, saw the way her hands came up almost involuntarily to cover her shoulders, and guessed what the problem was. "Don't, chere," he murmured, stepping close to her and pulling her hands away from her shoulders. "I don't never want to see you hide yourself."

"You can't tell me that you honestly don't see them, Ettienne. I'm hideous." Her voice shook on the last word.

"No. You're not. When I walk next to you, Alex, and people turn and look, I know what they're thinking. They wonder what happened to you. They wonder how you got the scars. They may even try to pity you, but the majority of the people on this base who have seen your scars see you as brave and beautiful. Exactly as I see you. I love you, Alex, every part of you, and nothing else matters." And he took the jacket and settled it on her shoulders, then he looked critically at her. "I don't know what you're complaining about, you look fine. No one can see them with the jacket on. And even if it's hot, just unbutton the front. You don't want to take the jacket off anyway, you'd get sunburned."

Alex giggled a little, slightly hysterically, and wiped her tearing eyes. "You have a point. Okay. I'll wear the suit."

Allie stood from where she sat on the bed. "It's been a really long day for Olivia and Alex, and Alex will have to leave early tomorrow. Come on, let's let her get some rest." The three Joes left quietly.


	21. Chapter 83: Choice

**Chapter 83: Choice**

Olivia looked at Alex staring at Ettienne, Ettienne staring at Alex, and said something quietly about being tired as she slipped out of the room and left the pair alone. Her quarters were right next to Alex's, and she went in, looking around.

It was sparse by civilian standards, but since her impressions of military housing had come from TV shows' depictions of tents and hard cots and military footlockers, compared to that this was nice. The bed, when she sat down, was firm enough to give her some support but not firm enough to aggravate the stitches between her legs, and she lay down with a sigh.

Now, in the quiet and privacy of her own room, she allowed herself to cry. The last three weeks had been overwhelming, between the kidnapping and Sandra's torture, her escape with Clayton that she really didn't remember much of because of the drug withdrawal. And because of Sandra—she simply hadn't been able to fight her aversion to being touched by female doctors since, but whenever Alex had come close she'd fought the urge to flinch. She knew Alex saw it, and understood, but Olivia hated herself for feeling that way.

And there was another possible complication. She'd missed her period; it should have started earlier this week but it hadn't, and combined with the slight nausea and the constant fatigue—of course, it could have just been the stress, and if it had been a light one she might have missed it in the heavy bleeding coming on the heels of Sandra's torture. But the other possibility, the one she couldn't help thinking about, was that she might be pregnant.

Her mind had retained little snippets of memory, like photographs, through the gray fuzziness of drug-induced hallucinations and pain, and one of those memories had been of excruciating pleasure-pain as Clayton came inside her, as she was forced to come around him, again and again and again. She didn't hold it against him; there was nothing he could have done, not with electricity applied; she remembered the April Troost case; April had drugged a wealthy man, gotten him alone in a hotel room, forced an ejaculation with an electric probe and used that to impregnate herself—then accused the guy of rape and blackmailed him later knowing there was no way to prove that he hadn't raped her; the baby's DNA would have come up as his.

She was conflicted; she didn't know how she felt. She hadn't been raped; Clayton was someone she knew, liked, cared about, and this wasn't his fault. It wasn't hers either. And even though her memories of Medellin FOB were fuzzy, she didn't remember having any discussions with doctors about contraceptives, so she assumed she wouldn't have gotten anything then. And she hadn't been at SouthCom all that long.

It was hard to believe that only four days ago she'd killed a man in Medellin and shot another. Already it seemed a lifetime away; when they really wanted to move someone or something, the military could be terrifyingly efficient.

Her problem was that if she was pregnant, there was only one person who could be the father; Clayton. And as much as she liked him, she didn't know him well enough to know how he was going to react in this situation. She didn't know if he was the traditional type of guy, who would want to marry her so that there would be a name on the birth certificate; didn't know if he even wanted kids. And there were her own insecurities; despite Elliot and Clayton himself telling her she'd be a great mom, would she really? How would she work and care for a baby at the same time? Being a single parent was hard; sure, she'd loved every minute with Calvin and his leaving had cut her like a knife, but Calvin had been old enough to be in school most of the day, and he was a pretty independent little guy already. A baby would be totally different. Could she handle it? How would she do it? Although it had hurt when Social Services had turned her down saying she had no close family and no support services, with Calvin she'd understood what they meant. She'd been worried about what Don would say about her leaving in the middle of the day because Calvin got in a fight at school.

Abortion and adoption was out of the question. If she was pregnant she wanted the baby. But after what Sandra had done to her, torn her and left all that scar tissue—could she stretch enough to have a baby? Would she want to jeopardize her life, and the child's, by trying?

She couldn't sleep, and after tossing and turning for what seemed like hours she finally got up. Usually when she had sleepless nights like this she would go for a walk to clear her head, and Allie had taken her on a quick tour of the base when they'd gotten here, so she knew where the recreation room was. Maybe a quick walk there and back would help.

She could feel the stitches between her legs pulling a tiny bit when she took long steps, so she took short ones. They'd given her a wheelchair, and she was supposed to use it for long distances but right now she needed the physical movement, the actual activity of walking, and so she took short baby steps down the halls and around the corners to the recreation room. And when she got there she found it wasn't empty.

Clayton looked up at the sound of hesitant steps, and saw Olivia hovering in the doorway. "Couldn't sleep either?" he asked with a rueful smile.

"No," she said, but her smile was slightly forced, and she looked like she had something on her mind. He didn't want to pry, but…"Come in and sit," he said, indicating the chair across the board from him. "I'm looking at this chess game Alex and I started and I really can't see how I'm going to win this one. She's got me backed into a corner and I think I'm stuck. Do you play?"

"A little, but Alex is better. Comes of being a lawyer; she can think strategically. I'm not as good at that as she is." She sat down in the seat he'd indicated, took a peek at the board and smiled. "Although even I can tell you're definitely not going to win this one. Alex has you neatly boxed in. You can't move without sacrificing something."

He groaned theatrically, happy to see even that ghost of a smile on her face. "Wonder if I can just reset the board and tell her someone knocked it over and we have to start the game over."

"I tried that. When she was trying to teach me to play. I got tired of her beating the pants off me all the time and I told her I knocked it over and we had to restart. She set up the pieces exactly how they'd been sitting when we'd last played." She laughed at Clayton's open-mouthed gape. "She has a photographic memory. She takes a mental snapshot of the board when we're done for the day so she can think it over later and plan a strategy. It's part of what makes her so good at chess and at her job. So you can forget about that plan, it's not going to work." Then she thought. "I don't know. Maybe she'll let _you_ get away with it."

"I'm going to try it." Clayton reached out to start moving pieces back to their respective sides of the board. Olivia picked up the white knight and looked at it thoughtfully, then said, "Have you ever wanted kids?"

Clayton's mind tumbled head-over-heels and froze. He couldn't think for long moments, then… "Why are you asking?"

"Well…we were talking about Calvin, back there, and you told me I'd be a great Mom. Elliot said the same thing too. I was wondering if you'd ever thought about having kids yourself, and whether they'd fit in with your job."

Something about that didn't quite ring true for Clayton, but he put that aside and focused on the question. "I can't say I've never thought about it, but right now I can't really see myself with kids," he said finally, slowly. "I mean, it might be a possibility sometime down the road, but this project I'm assigned with right now is a very high-stress, high-mortality assignment, and even though I'm officially a desk jockey, that's no guarantee against getting hurt." He gestured to his broken leg. "So no, I don't want kids. Not now, anyway. And it's not a matter of the whole outside entanglement issue, if that's what you were going to say," he said as she opened her mouth to speak. "It's that we face real threats and it would be far too easy for someone to attack any children we might have in order to get to us. Velez kidnapped you to get to Alex; think about what you went through. There are monsters out there who wouldn't hesitate to do those sorts of things to a child—you of all people would know that better than anyone, you prosecute those monsters. And the thought of something like that happening to my child…" he shuddered. "I don't know if my military oaths would hold in that situation. I don't know if my people's oaths would either, come to think of it. We're all so close, so much like family that what affects one of us affects all of us. I actually think a great deal of our determination to help Alex was because we could see Ettienne fell in love with her."

"If it's any consolation, she's in love with him too," Olivia smiled at him. "She might not say it now, she might not even have consciously admitted it to herself yet, but she is in love with him. And I don't think it's going to be a casual thing with her either, not like it was with this one lawyer she went out with, once, Trevor Langan. Smarmy defense lawyer, I never could see what she saw in him, but she swore she was in love with him, even got ready to say yes if he popped the question to her but all of that ended when he hid his relationship with her in order to take on a very wealthy client that she ended up prosecuting. And even when he found out she was prosecuting he refused to drop the client."

"And that's a problem?" he didn't understand.

"As a prosecutor she doesn't get to choose who to prosecute; the DA decides that, and her only choice was to recuse herself. The DA at the time was a real hardass and would suspend her if she told him…and all Trevor had to do was to refer his client to another partner at his firm. And he refused. She recused herself, took the suspension and broke up with him. I never heard her mention his name again." She looked thoughtful. "I don't think it was the client, or even the case. She didn't mind the suspension—okay, maybe a little, but she was honest when she told Trevor that wasn't it. It was the fact that while she sacrificed the case, her spotless record, and her reputation for this, he wouldn't give up his retainer fee to save her that."

"Son of a bitch. His penalties were lower than hers but he wouldn't even give up that much?" Clayton shook his head. "Did she have that gun of hers then? If I'd been her I'd have shot him."

Olivia laughed. "Don't think she didn't! I think she had a mental image of his face on the targets at the range for months after they broke up!"

"Oh, were you the one who taught her to shoot? I wondered about that."

"Yes, Don and I took Alex to the range and taught her how to shoot. Then later when Velez threatened her life Don got out his old Academy piece and got the gun registered to her and expedited her permit. He's former military, so he's pretty responsible about his weapons and he wouldn't have given it to her if he wasn't sure she could shoot it." She smiled thoughtfully. "I don't see she's going to have the same problem with Ettienne not wanting to sacrifice something petty for her. On the way back I've seen him shorten his strides to match hers so he wouldn't accidentally walk past her and have to make her run to catch up. The only thing I'm worried about is that as she gets better she's going to get fed up with the fussing." She saw Clayton's look. "Well, that's what she would have called it before all this happened!"

She stood, took one last look at the chessboard. "So, my advice? Just accept that you're going to lose. She might let you get away with resetting the board, but then again she might not. And if she decides not to, there's this look she'll give you that says she knows you're cheating. And she'll try extra hard to wipe the board with you next game."

Clayton looked down at the board ruefully. "When you put it that way, I guess it'll be safer if I leave it alone. Liv—" but as he looked up he realized she was gone.

The question she had asked haunted him as he left the rec room and headed for his quarters. Why _had_ she asked that?


	22. Chapter 84: Briefing

**Chapter 84: Briefing**

July in Washington DC was roasting.

To be completely fair, the city was in the middle of the worst heat wave in recent history, with record high temperatures recorded at Dulles International. For Alex, even though she thought she'd gotten accustomed to triple degree temperatures and sticky, muggy humidity in the jungle of the DRC, she now realized that she'd gotten accustomed to the controlled climate of the Joes' underground base and had to re-acclimate to the outside temperatures. Time had simply flown by in the last four months since the Joes had taken her halfway across the world to their base; there had still been snow on the ground when she had arrived, she remembered that much, though somewhat vaguely.

Now she was strongly tempted to take the jacket off and to hell with how people might react to the scars. She could feel sweat beads popping out on her skin with the first step off the small-troop transport, and the walk across the hot tarmac to the waiting string of black vehicles parked at the edge of it felt like she was slogging through humidity so thick she could cut it with a knife. The air-conditioned interior of the vehicles that had been dispatched to take Lieutenant General Johnson, General Hawk, Flint, herself and Scarlett was a relief but also made her feel slightly uncomfortable.

Scarlett had taken off her dress jacket, as had Flint and Hawk. "I'm almost afraid to take the jacket off, I wonder if I'll leave sweat stains on the seat," Alex murmured, touching the material. Real leather. She felt even more uncomfortable.

Scarlett snorted. "I'm not worried. There's a whole army of people hired to take care of the presidential vehicles. Let them worry about that! I'm not showing up to a meeting with the president dripping sweat!"

Alex grinned at her. "Well, when you put it that way…" she slipped the navy blue suit jacket off her shoulders as well.

She tried very hard not to squirm when she saw Lieutenant General Johnson's eyes widen. "I'm sorry, let me…" she fumbled for the jacket again, feeling self-conscious and ashamed, but he laid a restraining hand on her arm.

"No. I am the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have stared like that. It's just…I knew you'd been…through a lot…but I hadn't realized just how much. Please, make sure you're comfortable and ignore a stupid old man." His smile was warm and full of sympathy, and she slowly folded the jacket again. She didn't realize she was still subconsciously reacting to the Major General's look until Scarlett laid a hand on her shoulder; then she realized she was hunching her shoulders and forced herself to relax as Johnson started trading army stories with General Hawk. Most of them were humorous, albeit of the peculiar dark humor she'd gotten used to hearing from Liv—but she guessed that when you had to deal with bodies, like cops and the army did, certain coping habits would be similar, and exposure to Olivia helped her understand, and even appreciate, these Army guys.

Traffic in DC was almost worse than traffic in New York; Alex had relaxed completely by the time the string of three vehicles reached the White House. Johnson checked his watch and hurriedly shrugged back into his own jacket; Clayton, Dash, and Shana did the same, so Alex followed suit. 'We were supposed to have an hour to decompress and have a few words with the President before the inquiry convened, but with the traffic being what it is, we're not going to get that luxury now," Johnson said as he adjusted his jacket lapels and settled his hat firmly on his head. "Are we all ready?"

"Aye , Sir," Scarlett said instantly.

"Aye, Sir," Flint responded.

"Aye sir!" General Abernathy saluted.

"Not really," Alex heard her voice break with nervousness on the last word.

Johnson laughed—not at her, but in understanding of her nervousness, and smiled sympathetically. "Miss Cabot, in comparison with what you've already gone through, this will be a cakewalk," he told her. "No one here is going to try and hurt you, and anyone who does is going to have to do so around your escort here," he nodded at Scarlett, Flint, and Hawk, "…and me and the Secret Service. There are Secret Service crawling all over the White House today with this many foreign dignitaries and heads of agencies visiting; no one will touch you. We know, from what you told us, that a member of the Colombian delegation is part of the conspiracy that put those scars on you and we are not going to let that happen again, all right?' She nodded, feeling a little bit better. "All right. Come on, let's not keep the president waiting."

She'd been expecting a briefing room like the ones she'd seen on TV. What it was, instead, was an enormous long room, like a dining room—in fact, there were some marks on the carpet that made her think there had been a long table standing on that spot until quite recently—with 'recently' being that morning.

Now, instead of that long table, there were groups of chairs—four groups of chairs, to be precise, and they were occupied. The president himself sat with a bunch of dark suits that just screamed 'military administrative'; another small cluster of chairs was occupied by olive-skinned, dark-haired Colombian nationals; the Colombian ambassador and his crew, she suspected. And the next group of chairs—

She couldn't quite suppress a smile as her eyes met those of Judy Donnelly. The woman's happiness at seeing her was palpable even across the distance that separated them, and Alex had no doubt she'd be the recipient of a tight, overjoyed hug when the formal part of the proceedings was over. Next to her, Scarlett also smiled, and Judy smiled back; Alex remembered Scarlett had gone undercover at the ICC to bring back evidence of their subversion, and was relieved that there didn't seem to be any hard feelings—she'd been a little worried that Judy might not have appreciated the encroachment on her territory.

They took seats in the last cluster of chairs; Johnson first, then Hawk, Flint. Alex waited for Scarlett to sit, then took the last seat, trying to keep her back straight and her face confident when what she really wanted was to get out of there. And that surprised her; she hadn't felt uneasy about being he center of attention when she prosecuted a case, but here the weight of all hose looks intimidated her, and she wished Ettienne had been able to accompany them. She maybe might not feel so alone.

"Good afternoon," The President began, standing and stepping behind the nearby podium in order to address the assembled dignitaries.

"I'm going to make this brief, as we have a couple of wounded people who would no doubt like to get some rest. All of you have heard the story, have read the briefings on what has been happening lately, but some of you seemed unconvinced that what you have seen and heard is true, so I have brought the key players in this drama here to meet with all concerned, to give their accounts as to what happened, and resolve the remaining outstanding issues once and for all.

"The Colombian delegation is not pleased that an American military operation was carried out on their soil without their knowledge. I have attempted to explain to their satisfaction that notice could not be given, nor consent obtained, because of the emergency nature of the situation—"

"There was no emergency!" the Colombian ambassador half-rose from his seat. "This was a deliberate attempt by the American military to justify placing troops on Colombian land in a blatant attempt to infiltrate our borders supposedly to search for a druglord who died at the ICC!"

"As to that," Judy Donnelly stood from her seat. "I will attest to the fact that Cesar Alfonso Velez did not, in fact, die in a gas line accident at the ICC holding facility as we had originally put out. The reason was that we could not allow it to be known that someone had broken out of our jail until we were absolutely sure that it would not happen again. As much as we hate to admit the fact, our organization was infiltrated and subverted by Velez's operatives so that he could pursue a personal vendetta against one of our volunteer advocates and most trusted employees, Alexandra Cabot."

"That is preposterous, how would a druglord from my country even know she even existed—" The ambassador was fuming.

The president turned to the knot of Joes. "I believe that this story would be best heard from the one who has lived through it," he said, and held out a hand to Alex.

Alex stood behind the podium, staring out at the sea of faces. It seemed almost unreal, like a fantastic story as she stood there and told all of them about a case in the Manhattan courts five years ago; about hearing gunshots and feeling the searing agony in her shoulder as she dropped; about the fear and pain as she lay on a rainy Manhattan sidewalk outside a cops' bar after that case, with her best friend's fingers plugged into her artery, keeping her from bleeding out until help could get to her.

She didn't want to give too many details about her time in Witness Protection, unsure how much detail she could give without compromising that organization's policies and practices. She mostly spoke of how alone she'd felt, how isolated and bitter and lonely and homesick; she heard her voice catch, tremble, as she told them her mother had died and Alex hadn't been able to go to her funeral, and she could almost feel the silent wave of sympathy as she told them her mother had died without knowing Alex was still alive, but in hiding.

By then some of the surreal feeling had gone, and cold logic took over. She knew how to use emotional and logical hooks to convince juries that a defendant had indeed perpetrated whatever crime she was prosecuting him for, and she used those ruthlessly to try and sway every single person in that room onto their side. Not just because she wanted them to understand what she had gone through, just how much of her life Velez had taken; but because she knew that the careers of the three Joes sitting behind her could be on the line if she couldn't convince them that this operation was the only way Velez would have been stopped.

She told them about the few relatively peaceful years in New York, about serving as the Bureau Chief for the Junior Prosecutors' division, about going back to the SVU to prosecute their cases when they lost their ADA. She told them about the case that had inspired her passion for justice for the women of the DRC, about her decision to take a sabbatical and volunteer at the ICC. She told everyone about going there, meeting Judy and the rest of the prosecutorial staff, about settling in and trying to do her best for the victims she was trying to help.

Then the fateful day when she walked into the prison, saw Cesar Velez there. She told them how she'd hidden her fear when he'd lunged forward, reaching through the bars to grab her wrist in a hard, crushing fist; about the little incidents that plagued her from then on, at first dangerous but petty, like the acid on her suitcase handle; then to outright dangerous as she described the poisoned takeout, the sniper in Rio, the hotel room blowing up, all the incidents Velez had used over the last three years to terrorize her, to make her afraid, put her on her guard and get her attention. She used the strongest words she could to try and paint a vivid picture of her fear as she lay in bed at night, wondering if she would just never wake up; wondering each day as she got up as if it were her last; how jumpy she'd gotten, startling at every noise, every glance on the street; how she'd started losing her appetite and then weight as she found herself unable to eat, unable to get a good night's sleep, and a quick look at the President's group and the group from the ICC showed she was getting through. Only the Colombian party remained a mystery to her; she couldn't read them.

She plowed ahead, telling them about Clancy and his offer, of the poisoned-honey words he'd spoken to her to convince her that this plan would get Velez out of her life forever. She closed her eyes, unable to hold back the silent tears running down her cheeks as she told them in a harsh, flat monotone about the young soldiers that had been sent out with her that first time, named each of the soldiers for the listening audience, each of the ten young men who'd been massacred in the jungle. For her. She told them of young Kenny Harvard's bravery and self-sacrifice; about her absolute terror as she lay in the long pine box and let the natives nail her in; about lying in the darkness, unable to move, breathing through a thin tube as she waited for those searching for her to either go by or to find her, to dig her up and kill her; and then, as time passed, distorted and magnified by her terror, new fears that she would never be dug up, that she would die buried alive because the villagers had been killed and there was no one left alive who knew she was down here. Those first welcome gasps of air as she was unearthed, as she rolled out of the coffin crying in relief that she was alive.

And Clancy came to her again, talked her out of quitting, said he would send a more experienced team in with her. She told them about meeting Flint's team at the airport, about believing that this time, she wouldn't get out alive. She told them about the trip, about what they had done for Shandi, with a catch in her voice and tears in her eyes. And then she scolded herself for being a baby, but she couldn't stop her voice from shaking as she recounted hers and Flint's capture, about Zimurinda, about not being able to hear out of one ear anymore because of the damage, heard Judy's soft anguished sob as the other woman heard for the first time what had happened to the chip. She told about losing the use of two fingers of her right hand, holding up that hand and curling the remaining fingers so her silent audience could see they no longer worked. She couldn't go into details about her rape; that was too personal, too hurtful, and she could only remember fuzzy details. One detail she could remember was that there had been an olive-skinned Colombian there, a lighter-skinned face among the darker African ones, with a camera taking pictures. She told them what she remembered of the three days, her anguish at seeing Flint tortured because of her, her desperate pleas for them to hurt her instead of him, because she was the one they wanted, after all…and she tried to stay calm, dispassionate, unemotional…and couldn't.

She was standing there mutely struggling to find words as tears poured down her face when gentle hand touched her arm; she turned and saw Flint. He took her arm gently, guided her to her chair, and she sat down, shaking with sobs. Ignoring military protocol, Scarlett gave her a quick fierce hug as one of the President's own aides came to her with a pack of tissues. She nodded her thanks, not trusting her voice to speak, and sat there trying to get herself under control as Flint briefly recapped the Joes' side to what Alex had already said, then took up the thread of the story. How the rest of his team had defied Clancy's orders not to attempt a rescue and against all odds had found them in the middle of the jungle and rescued them by tracking the frequency on Alex's chip; the visit to the DRC hospital, the way they had smuggled Alex out, the marathon flight home. He described vividly how they'd run out of painkillers and couldn't do anything about Alex's pain on the last leg home, and Alex realized how deeply the whole thing had affected him when she heard him trying to maintain his own composure.

Scarlett took the podium then, described the operation she had spearheaded in the ICC. How she and Hawk had leveraged her background as a lawyer to get her in; how she and Snake Eyes had found the bits and pieces to Alex's life in her apartment, the discovery of the sheets of cotton paper painstakingly sewn between two of Alex's dresses. Alex managed to stop crying, wanting to listen; she'd known Scarlett had gone to the ICC but she hadn't asked for the details of the operation, and Scarlett hadn't volunteered it. Now she flinched when Scarlet spoke, quietly but with an undercurrent of fury, about the video cameras hidden in Alex's bathroom, about the photos Snake Eyes had found of Alex in Sandra's drawers, the defacement of those photos. About their kidnapping and final confrontation with Velez and Sandra in the warehouse the night of Velez's escape from the ICC jail; their headlong flight out, Scarlett sacrificing her personal possessions to carry what remained of Alex's things home out of a fierce desire to give Alex back something of what she'd lost, no matter how small. She described their marathon relay to get home, skipping from airport to airport around half of Europe to shake anyone who might follow them home. Alex hadn't known that they had barely eaten, barely slept; they'd stayed constantly on their guards, watching each others' backs, until they had finally come home to Joe base.

She sat down, then, and Hawk took up the story. By now there was utter silence in the room; every person riveted to the recitation of events that had ultimately brought all of them here, the real world deadly chess game between Velez and Alex that had taken so much time, caught up so many lives, all down to this. General Hawk outlined the line of reasoning he had taken to come to the conclusion that Alex had to stay with them even after she'd woken from her coma; how he'd decided to reach out to Olivia Benson as Alex's best friend and next of kin, to let her know Alex was alive after the UN had told her Alex was dead; how, after seeing her obvious concern over Alex's safety he'd made several trips back to the One Six to keep her updated. He didn't mention that Olivia had been brought to Joe base to see Alex; he didn't mention that he'd begun a private relationship with her. It hadn't had anything to do with the mission and he didn't feel it would help their case any.

And then he described the shootout, the realization that Olivia was in danger since Velez couldn't get to Alex, and he'd gone to warn her, only to walk in on the middle of the kidnapping attempt. He'd surrendered rather than put Olivia's life in danger. Now there were long pauses in his narrative as he bent all of his iron will and military discipline to keep talking, to describe for the silent listeners what it had been like to be tortured, to watch an innocent civilian be tortured and pumped full of hallucinatory drugs. There was a fine line here; he didn't want to get graphic in his descriptions, but 'sexually tortured' just didn't even begin to describe what Olivia had felt and experienced, which made it all the more amazing that she had managed to help save both of them. It didn't get easier until he described their escape, up to the point where he'd broken his leg when their vehicle went into the river; then he told them the rest of the story of their escape as Chris had told it to him, outlining Olivia's extraordinary, almost superhuman efforts to save both of them, and their final flight from Medellin to Miami and then home.


	23. Chapter 85: Mole

**Chapter 85: Mole**

For long moments after Hawk stopped talking and sat down, the room was silent as everyone tried to come to grips with the sheer magnitude of the entire affair. This office in the White House was worlds away and almost another lifetime from the depths of the Congo's jungle, the polished floors of the ICC courthouse at The Hague, and ultimately, Velez's villa in Brazil.

The President finally rose, went to the podium again. "The breadth and depth of the entire affair has been astounding. The lengths to which this Colombian druglord Cesar Velez has gone in order to pursue his obsessive need for revenge against Ms. Alexandra Cabot is astounding, and the simple fact that she is here to testify for us today is due in large part to her strength and determination. She has borne all of this with the same courage and fighting spirit that we nurture in all Americans and I admire her fortitude and bravery, not only in enduring the initial ordeal in the DRC, but then to also volunteer to go to Colombia to face Velez, ostensibly to trade her life for the lives of another civilian and one of our most highly-decorated generals, is astounding.

"I am sure you all have questions. Ms. Cabot, are you up to a brief question and answer session? And it will be brief; no more than five more minutes; I am certain you're tired and this has been long day for you." Alex nodded, forced herself to move back to the podium, looked out over the sea of faces. She had no idea how pale she looked, how drawn and tired, and many of the people in that room decided to not ask her questions out of pity.

A sudden movement at the Colombian delegation's cluster of chairs drew Alex's attention, and she looked in that direction as the ambassador rose from his chair. "On behalf of my people and my country, Ms. Cabot, I deeply regret that one of our citizens was responsible for the heinous acts which were supposedly done to you," and even though his tone was polite and deferential, the veiled sarcasm was obvious. In the chairs beside her, Hawk, Flint, and Scarlett stiffened in outrage that the ambassador would dare to imply that Alex might be lying! "And yet, I find it hard to believe that Velez could have been responsible for each of these attacks, for the entire operation. As a simple druglord, his reach is not unlimited and I cannot see how he managed to get a rogue warlord from the Congo to do his bidding as regards you."

"Velez very, very far from being a 'simple druglord'. He has built an empire that touches many countries, many lives. Not only is he handling most of the illegal drug trade coming out of your country, he has purchased arms from arms dealers, traded these arms to factions in the DRC in exchange for Congolese citizens, stolen from the DRC and trafficked globally as slaves. Most of these are children. These Congolese warlords sweep into a village, killing and raping men and women, kidnapping women and children, and trafficking them as sex slaves to wealthy individuals all over the world. The people who sell him arms, the people who produce, package, transport, deal, sell and buy his drugs, his weapons, and his child slaves owe him a sort of twisted allegiance. Partly out of fear because they know what he will do to them if they break their agreements with him, but partly out of greed because they want what he can give them. In Zimurinda's case, Velez planted one of his close associates in the warlord's camp, with instructions to…to photograph my expected demise."

Another shift of movement, this one somehow furtive, and Alex's attention was drawn to a man sitting well to the back of the delegation. And she almost screamed in shock.

Scarlett and Flint were on their feet. "Alex, what—"

Alex was shaking so hard she could barely stand; the two Joes looked askance at her, then faced the man who was standing slowly from the chair behind the Colombian ambassador. "You," she breathed, and the hatred and loathing was unmistakable. "You were the one taking pictures in Zimurinda's hut!"

"Yes," the man hissed, and Flint suddenly recognized him; he'd seen the man a couple of times around the fringe of the militia camp. "I asked Cesar to send me there; I took a vacation from my work as the ambassador's aide so I could see you die!"

"What did I do to you?" Alex stepped around the podium, taking a few steps toward the man. "Who are you? I've never seen you before in my life. What did I do to you, that you could hate me so much you'd want to…to see…"

"To see you scream as they raped you with sticks? To take pictures as they raped you with your own gun? To watch you crawl for them, on your knees in front of them while they forced you to tell them you liked it, liked them? Yes, I wanted to see that, you deserved all of that and more because you killed my brother!"

"I don't…I didn't…"

"You insulted him in the courtroom. His honor demanded retribution, and in so doing you forced Cesar to kill him. My brother was Rafael Zapata Gaviria. Do you remember him now?"

"Yes, but…I didn't kill him. Cesar ordered him killed, it wasn't my doing…"

"It was your smart mouth that got my brother killed! Don't try to deny it, bitch!" And he went berserk.

The next few minutes were a blur. Alex stumbled backward as his hands closed around her neck, fell to the floor with him on top of her, her vision already graying out as her air was choked off. She clawed futilely at the hands constricting her windpipe, knowing she was too weak, he was too strong, and she couldn't dislodge his hands…

And then he was gone, his weight off her, his hands letting go of her throat, and a gentle pair of hands was on her shoulders, helping her sit as she gasped for air, feeling her lungs burning. As she cleared her vision, she saw Scarlett had yanked the man off her. She hadn't thought Scarlett could move like that in the apparently restrictive cut of her military dress uniform, but it was apparently no hindrance as she yanked the man off Alex, spun him around and pinned him to the floor in one smooth move, and now held one arm in a viciously tight grip as she planted the heel of her dress pump on the man's throat. None too gently either, to judge from the gurgle of his breath in his throat.

"Is Alex okay, Flint?" she said, her voice steel. "If she isn't, I swear…" she gave the man's arm a half-twist and he gurgled again.

It was Flint to one side of her, and Hawk on the other, using one crutch to stand and the other held out defensively, ready to take on anyone else that might have considered attacking Alex. Fortunately, though, it didn't look like anyone else was going to try it. The Secret Service agents had clustered thickly around the President and the Cabinet, but the remainder of them had their guns pointed at the occupants in the room; most of their guns were aimed at the Columbian delegation, but there were a few aimed at the ICC delegation too.

Alex tried to stand, and found she couldn't; her knees just wouldn't hold her. Flint was crouched beside her, and she leaned her forehead against his shoulder as she tried to stop shaking. It was only when he curled his arm around her shoulders that she realized she could feel cool air on her shoulders, and she realized her jacket and skirt had been torn in the scuffle. She jerked away, her eyes wide, and grabbed for the torn remnants of the jacket, trying to cover the scars before anyone else could see them.

The silence and utter stillness in the room told her she was too late.

She could feel herself cringing under the shocked stares of every person in the room, and tried to untangle the arms of the jacket, slip her arms into it and cover before it got worse, but the damage was done. They'd seen her shoulders, the top half of her back, and because of the torn skirt and ripped pantyhose, they could see the scars on her upper thighs too. Flint stripped off his dress jacket and draped it over her shoulders, and she thanked him silently with her eyes as the President spoke.

"Mr. Ambassador, we will contact you directly about waiving diplomatic immunity for this individual so that we can prosecute him here for the attempted murder of Alexandra Cabot. We have a roomful of witnesses—"

"That will not be necessary, Mr. President," The Colombian ambassador seemed as shaken as everyone else. "I am waiving his right as of now, if you would like to take him into custody." At the President's nod, Secret Service agents converged on Scarlett and her captive. Scarlett relinquished the man slightly reluctantly; it looked to everyone in the room like she wanted to twist his arm a little more, but she restrained herself. The Secret Service agents slapped cuffs on him and hauled him away.

"I am adjourning this meeting as of right now. We will reconvene tomorrow morning. Major General Johnson, please coordinate with the Secretary of Defense and locate hotel lodgings for General Abernathy, Warrant Officer Faireborn, Master Sergeant O'Hara and Ms. Cabot for the night. Then arrange for them to return to their base tomorrow morning. Ms. Cabot's testimony has been given, and I don't think anyone here could question her veracity after what just took place," nods all around, "And I'm sure she'd like to rest; the last week has been extremely stressful even at the best of times and Ms. Cabot is still healing. Now, if someone could please call an ambulance—"

"No!" Alex, alarmed, rose to her feet, swaying slightly until Flint steadied her. "No. No ambulance. I'm fine." God only knew what would happen if Washington DC saw an ambulance rushing to the White House. No, she really didn't want to go through that. "I'm just tired. Please."

"I would feel better if you were checked—"

"No. I'm fine. Really." She tried to straighten, to smile reassuringly at a plainly worried President, slightly dazed that he, of all people, would be worried about her.

A Secret Service agent leaned in close, whispered something into his ear, and his face relaxed into a smile. "My agent reminds me that the First Lady used to be an EMT. So if you would please follow him, he'll take you to the family wing and she will take a look at you. If she says you should go to the hospital, you will go." His tone invited no argument.

Alex had no choice but to accept gracefully.

_I should take notes. I don't think anyone's ever been in the family wing of the White House before and I'm not likely to see it again._ But she was too tired, exhausted really, and her head hurt. She concentrated instead on putting one foot in front of the other, willing herself not to fall over. Flint marched along on one side of her, Hawk on the other, and Scarlett walked behind them. Not that anyone was going to try anything, not with the President himself having assigned her a cadre of Secret Service agents to escort her to the family wing where the First Lady was waiting, having been informed via the staff intercom of the situation.

The First Lady was a warm, motherly kind of person, exactly as Alex expected a nurse should be. She didn't—quite—gasp when she saw Alex, but she did quickly tell Alex to have a seat as she brought over a small first aid kit. "These are some bruises," she tsked gently as she gently probed Alex's still-slightly-swollen left eye, shone a light into her right, then reached for Flint's military dress jacket, still draped over Alex's shoulders. Alex clung to it, stubbornly, but the First Lady just gave her the same look Alex's own mother used to give her when Alex was being naughty, and Alex quietly let the jacket go.

The First Lady's face didn't change expression; she just surveyed the scars on Alex's shoulders with a professionally detached air, then reached down and touched one. "Does this hurt?"

The Joes stood by silently as the First Lady went over every inch of Alex's exposed skin, probing, feeling delicately. Several of the places she touched were still tender, and Alex had to focus on breathing so she wouldn't betray just how much pain the simple touch caused her. Doc had prescribed some low-grade painkillers, but she'd forgotten to bring any in their haste to leave and she regretted it now.

The First Lady finished her inspection as the door opened and the President himself walked in. They caught a glimpse through the open door of Secret Service waiting outside before he closed it and came in alone. "How are you?" he asked Alex, first.

"I'm fine, thank you," Alex said. "You really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble—"

"Yes, he should," the First Lady said, folding her arms across her chest. "Really, Will. Didn't even give her time to catch her breath after getting here, just started the meeting. Did you even think to have water waiting? We are in the middle of a heatwave, and the city is horrible in the middle of a heatwave."

"Um, no, I didn't. I just wanted to get this briefing over with." The President looked crestfallen, the age-old look of a man whose wife was scolding him for forgetting his manners.

"Then that's the first thing she's getting. Water, and something to eat. For all of you." She indicated the waiting Joes. "Honestly, Will, you have a woman who's been through more than any one person should ever have to go through, a wounded soldier, and two others who put their lives on the line for our country on a daily basis. You could at least have delayed the briefing a few minutes!" She pressed the intercom button, and a woman popped her head in. "Please have the kitchen prepare some sandwiches and bring up water and iced tea." The woman nodded and disappeared.

"And another thing. I know you weren't going to just send her off to a hotel room in those torn clothes." Again the President looked crestfallen, and Shana had to fight the smile. So did Alex. "At least you could give her something to put on until she could change. Do you think she wants to be stared at?"

"About those scars…" the President turned to Alex soberly. "Ms. Cabot. I heard the audiofeed from the chip that my defense advisors decrypted and sent on to the ICC. The chip caught a great deal of sound from the militia camp where you were held captive, and some of it was extremely hard to listen to. I heard it, but it didn't hit me until I saw your scars in the briefing room just how much you must have gone through in order to be where you are today. I am ecstatic that you have survived; I am sorry that you have such reminders of this affair. I owe the lives of several of my soldiers to you, as well as elimination of a threat to my country's security, and I wish it hadn't come at such a high price. I'm not going to apologize for what you went through, you're probably tired of hearing that, but I will say that I admire your strength and courage and hope that you understand."

"I do. Thank you," Alex said quietly.

"And in light of what has happened here today, I don't feel that your presence is required here. The man we have in custody should be able to answer any questions we might have about what remains of the rest of Velez's operation. I'm arranging for a flight that will take you and General Abernathy's team back to the base in New York tomorrow morning; it'll leave Dulles around noon."

Alex smiled, a real, genuine smile, for the first time that day. "I do want to go home—" and she caught herself, still unsure of where she was going to go and what she was going to do, but at least when they got back to Joe base she could see Ettienne again, and that brought the smile back to her face. "Thank you," she finished, then fell silent as the door opened and the woman slipped in with a huge platter of small sandwiches and glasses of iced tea and bottles of water on a wheeled cart in front of her.

"Go ahead and eat. Please. Will, if you would," and the First Lady disappeared. The President pulled up chairs for all of them to the table, and they sat down as he did. "I may be the President, but the real power in this building is my wife," he said wryly. "I don't know if any of you have significant others, but it seems to be universal."

"Yes, it is," Flint said as he seated himself. "I came to the conclusion long ago that it's something written in female. They just let us guys think we're in charge but they're the ones who really rule the world." There was general laughter around the table as everyone else sat, and Alex found herself relaxing as she nibbled on the sandwiches and water.

They were just about done when the First Lady appeared again, and this time she held a soft gray suit slung over one arm. She held it out to Alex, who stared at it in consternation. "I couldn't possibly!"

"You can and you will," she said firmly. "You can't leave wearing that navy blue suit; I will not have a guest of ours leaving here looking like you've been in a catfight. And I'm willing to bet that suit wasn't even yours, it didn't fit right. Did you bring anything else?"

"She doesn't have anything else, ma'am," Scarlett said from where she sat at the table. "Velez hacked into her bank account, took everything in it, and closed it. When the UN representative had her declared dead, her Social Security number was deactivated, her law license with it. And there's only three of us girls at the base and we didn't have anything else that even came close to fitting. The stuff I found in her old apartment at The Hague is literally all she has left."

"Then you absolutely have to take this," The First Lady handed Alex the bundle of clothing, which, when Alex unfolded it, proved to be a lovely pearl-gray suit jacket, an off-white sleeveless blouse, and matching slacks. When she would have spoken again, the First Lady shook her head. "I have more clothes than I need. And this never fit me anyway. There's a bathroom in there, go on and get dressed." And Alex had no choice but to go.


	24. Chapter 86: Resilience

**Chapter 86: Resilience**

She looked lovely in the new suit, Scarlett decided as they sat in the long black limousine headed toward the DC Carlton, but the bruises from Gaviria's fingers were dark around her throat, she still looked pale and exhausted, and her eyes were slightly bloodshot—most likely from the attempt to strangle her. She slipped into long pants and a t-shirt when they got there, folding the suit carefully into her tiny overnight bag, then joined them all out in the main room as the meal Clayton ordered for them arrived. She spoke little, ate less, then went to bed as soon as she was finished. They had gotten two double rooms, one for Shana and Alex, one for Clayton and Dash, off of a main sitting room, and the three Joes changed out of their dress uniforms and sat there discussing the day—quietly, so as not to disturb Alex.

"Not once did I think that something like that would happen at the briefing. We could have gotten permission to wear weapons if we'd even thought she'd be in danger." Clayton was still shaking his head. "Thank God you reacted so quickly, Shana. Everyone there was focusing on protecting the president and the heads of state and no one thought to protect her."

"She's pretty depressed right now. I could see it in the White House when she was talking to the First Lady. She's been incredibly resilient so far, she just keeps getting back up after circumstances knock her down, but I wonder how much longer she can keep absorbing these blows. I wonder if there will ever be a point at which she feels safe. I think she thought it was all over when she killed Velez, but this attack here in what should be the safest place in the world for her, shook her deeply."

"I can't wait until we get her back to base." Flint said quietly. "I don't know if you all have noticed but during the last four months, ever since we first met her, Ettienne's been a quiet shadow beside her. Standing just behind her, and off to her right a little. White knight to the white queen, if you want to use another chess analogy. And even though he's not here at the moment, I noticed that when she's feeling insecure or unsure, she turns almost reflexively to that side, like she expects that he'll be there and will help her when she can't keep going. She's pretty strong and independent on her own, but everybody needs someone they can feel secure with and Ettienne is Alex's. And him not being here right now when she needs his strength to help her deal with everything that's going on…I wish we'd brought him. I wish we'd thought of it."

Shana held up a hand, and the two men stopped speaking, In the sudden silence, they could hear, faintly, the sound of someone crying. Alex.

Shana got up without a word and went to the room she was sharing with Alex, closing the door firmly although she knew it wouldn't stop the guys from listening in. The room was dark, but there was enough light from the streetlamps and traffic outside for Shana to see that Alex was curled up on her side in the bed, crying into the pillow; she stopped when Shana came in. "I'm sorry," and she tried to rise to a sitting position, scrubbing almost angrily at the tears that still continued coming. "I didn't mean to disturb you guys."

"You're not disturbing us. Stop it, Alex." Shana said firmly.

"I'm sorry—"

"That's exactly what I mean. Stop it. Stop apologizing for things that aren't your fault. You're not military, Alex, and you're not required to maintain military discipline. Yes, it's easier on us when you do because we're more used to dealing with other soldiers like us, but you haven't been trained to do it and it doesn't come naturally to you. And right now you've been under more stress for far longer than any one person should ever have to deal with in one lifetime. Don't apologize for crying, Alex. You're only human." She softened her tone on the last word.

"I just…I thought it was over, when I shot Velez. I thought if he was dead I wouldn't have to worry about being hunted anymore, wouldn't have to constantly look over my shoulder, that I could finally have my life back after this whole nightmare. And then Gaviria's brother attacked me in there and it's a shock. How many more people are going to hunt me down, how many are going to hate me and want me dead? When am I ever going to finally get some peace and quiet so I can get on with my life?" She tried to stop but couldn't—all the misery and frustration and anger and helplessness she'd felt came bursting out at once. "God damn fucking bastard I want my life _back_! You're _dead_, now leave me the hell _alone_!"

"Good." Shana said quietly as Alex fell silent. "You had that bottled up in there, I bet it felt good to let that out. You're really controlled, Alex, and that's good, a good thing in a courtroom, but part of having good control is knowing when to let it go."

"You're controlled. I've seen you stop your sword a hair's breadth away from Snake Eyes' neck in the dojo."

Shana flushed a bright pink. "He's the one who taught me that the most important part about control is knowing how, and being able to, let go." Alex looked curiously at the blush, which made Shana's face get even redder, but she didn't offer an explanation and Alex didn't push. To change the subject, Shana said abruptly, "You miss Ettienne."

Alex's head snapped up so fast Shana was momentarily worried she'd get whiplash. She opened her mouth, ostensibly to protest, but as Shana looked back at her steadily, Alex's eyes dropped and she mumbled, "Yeah, I do."

Shana rolled her eyes. "Why is that hard for you to admit? Jeez, Alex, I look at you two together and you just seem to fit together. You're the hand, he's the glove."

"Because I've always been independent. I depend on myself and no one else. I was proud of that. And suddenly…suddenly this happens and I realize just how stupid I was, proud and arrogant, and that's what landed me in this mess to begin with. Me and my damn stupid mouth. And now I find that for the first time in my life, when I reach down in me for that strength I always relied on before, there's nothing there. There's nothing left. And…with Ettienne…he helps me without making me feel helpless. He supports me without making me feel weak. When he's with me I can draw on his strength to help recharge my own, I guess you could say. And…I've never had that with anyone else. With Olivia, maybe, but I never got to the point where I was completely dependent on her. I have never, in my adult life, been at the point where I was completely dependent on someone else. And I'm scared, but…it feels right, with him." She smiled then, a ghost of a curve to her lips in the mostly-dark room. "Do you know, I've never been in love before. I never felt for anyone else what I feel for him. It's…incredible."

"You miss Alex."

Ettienne looked around at the sound of the female voice behind him and smiled at Olivia. "Hey. Have a seat." There was plenty of room at this table he'd been sitting at in the mess hall; it was Friday night on the Fourth Of July weekend, and most of the Joes were off base on liberal leave. Normally he would have been with them; hanging out with Courtney and Beach Head, making the rounds of some of New York's seedier dives, trying to keep their enthusiasm under control (and gleefully finishing the fights they started) but he simply hadn't had the heart to do so this time; he was worried about Alex and what might be happening in DC and so had declined Courtney and Beach Head's invitation. With the base at minimal complement he could get some thinking done, decide what he wanted to do.

Olivia sat next to him, holding her own mess tray. He smiled at her. "Feeling a little better? I hope you're not feeling too confined. I guess you'd probably rather be out there having fun with your friends or whatever you usually do on your weekends."

"Work," Olivia shook her head as she picked up her fork. "We're a tiny unit, and we're on call all the time. Being here just gives me an excuse to lie in bed and sleep." Then she looked a little guilty. "Though I do feel guilty about leaving all the work to El and Fin and Munch."

"I know you're in a lot of pain, and that doesn't make it much of a holiday, but try to enjoy it." He hesitated, but finally said, "How are you doing?"

"Pretty good. Doc says I'm healing fine and he lowered the dosage on my pain meds, and the last of the drugs Sandra pumped me with are out of my system, so I don't even have to deal with that at the moment." She abruptly switched topics. "You miss Alex."

"Is it that obvious?" He thought he'd been hiding it well.

"I don't know you that well, so I don't know what's normal for you, but I did gather from listening to Allie and Courtney talk that you've been with her every step of her recovery, and after four months of practically living at her side you have to be feeling slightly lost."

He smiled ruefully. "True. I do feel a little lost. And it's an odd feeling, I've never had this with anyone else before."

"No serious relationships?" Olivia looked askance at him.

Ettienne sighed and stared at his tray. "When I first got chosen for this project—most of the people here are Army, there's a handful from the Marines and Air Force and Coast Guard, but pretty much everyone is Army…when I first got picked for this project I was in a steady long-term relationship with a girlfriend. I had even started thinking about proposing to her. Then I got assigned here and General Hawk told us all about the no off base relationship rule, and I had to do some thinking. And in the end I broke it off with her because I wanted this more than I wanted her, wanted this project, this assignment. Yeah, I regretted it a little, but this is practically like being married to the job, and I've gone the last ten years or so without feeling the lack of steady female companionship.

"And then…suddenly there's Alex. She's the strongest woman I've ever met; the most dedicated, compassionate, levelheaded, beautiful woman I've ever known my life. And I came to the realization when I was sitting in the Hummer outside your precinct watching you that I'm in love with her. And since then…" he sighed. "I want her more than I want this assignment, this project. I'm going to talk to Clayton when he gets back and ask to be transferred to a regular Marine base somewhere, hopefully in New York so I can continue seeing her."

"What if you can't be posted in the New York area? I don't know how the military does these things, but what will you do if the New York area bases are full? I don't know if Alex will be willing to move elsewhere in the country with you, and I can tell you I'd be pretty unhappy about it because she's my best friend." Olivia decided not to tell Ettienne what Clayton had said about not transferring him; firstly because that was Clayton's business and she didn't know if he might change his mind; and she was curious to know just how deep his commitment was to Alex.

"If that happens I'll leave the service. Muster out. I've always thought about opening up a little restaurant somewhere serving Cajun food; maybe this is the time to think seriously about it. I don't know. All I do know is that I can't imagine living my life without her anymore; I can't imagine a life without her in it. I love her so much it hurts just thinking about how close she came to dying. I know she hates Velez but if it hadn't been for him and Clancy and this whole rotten set of circumstances, I would never have known her, would have never known she existed. It's the only good thing to have come out of this whole mess."

"But if it hadn't been for Velez and Clancy, she wouldn't have had to endure what she did, not have the scars she has now. Would you have given up the chance to know her if it would have spared her all of that?"

Ettienne looked stricken, swore softly in French. "_Merde_. I don't know, Olivia. I can't answer that."

Olivia didn't think it likely but she had to ask her next question. "You've been with her through every step of her recovery. What if once she's recovered and back on her feet, she decides she wants to see other people? Explore other relationships? What if that happens after you've mustered out and opened up that restaurant you wanted? Are you going to resent her because you gave up your career for her and she didn't stay with you?"

"No." Ettienne was definite about that; it was one of the things he'd been thinking about. "No. I love her and I want to see her happy, even if it's not with me. I'm almost forty years old, and at this point in my life I'm absolutely certain I will never love anyone like I love her, but if she doesn't feel the same way, well…I just want to be in her life, in whatever way she'll let me be there, for the rest of her life. And if anyone dares to ever hurt her again…" his fist tightened around his fork.

Olivia smiled at him. "You'll be there, her white knight. It's okay, Ettienne, I've known her a bit longer than you have, and I know her a bit better. I've never seen her this in love and this happy with anyone before you, and she's so damn picky that she probably never would find anyone again. I think she'd be perfectly happy to spend the rest of her life with you, to be completely honest."

Ettienne shook his head. "I thought of that but I don't want to propose, not just yet. I want to give her time to heal fully from this, to get back on her feet and rediscover who she is. I want her to feel independent and free again before I ask her to marry me. I don't want her to feel like she has to say yes because I've helped her all this time. I want her to make up her mind, not have me make it for her. I want her to decide on her own if she belongs with me."


	25. Chapter 87: Fourth

**Chapter 87: Fourth**

If there was any doubt in Olivia's mind at all about Alex and Ettienne's feelings for each other, they were dispelled the next afternoon when the Joes' Hummer came back from picking Alex, Clayton, Shana and Dash from Fort Hamilton. Clayton was the first one out, handling his crutches carefully, and Olivia's heart ached as she thought about her own unresolved issues. She hadn't had the courage to ask Doc to do a pregnancy test, she didn't know Clayton well enough to know how he would react if she told him she was pregnant.

But Alex was the second one out of the Hummer, and she dropped her overnight bag on the garage floor as she ran toward Ettienne. Both their faces radiated happiness and joy at seeing each other, and if there was any doubt left in anyone's mind, the long, fervent, enthusiastic kiss they shared would have settled that. Dash and Allie greeted each other quietly but happily, and Snake Eyes gave Shana a hug just before the redhead said cheerfully to Alex and Ettienne, "Oh, go find a room already, will you?"

The few soldiers assembled there broke into laughter.

Clayton addressed all of them. "Allie, Shana, I'd like to talk to you in my office. I assume Courtney's out with Wayne—" _getting into trouble_ was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit down on it. "It's nothing bad, just some policy changes I want to make around here and I'm not certain I know how to go about handling this."

By the twinkle in Allie's eye she knew exactly what it was he wanted to talk about, but she didn't comment until they were seated on chairs in Clayton's office. "What changed your mind?" she said bluntly. "Just for future reference."

"So we can rub salt into the wound," Shana said cheerfully. "Was it seeing Ettienne with Alex and knowing that if you don't accept that he has a relationship with her you'll lose him, or was it Olivia?"

Clayton stared at the two women. "Can't I have any secrets?" he asked plaintively.

"No. You can't." Allie said flatly. "You're Hawk because there's little that goes on in this base that you don't find out eventually. But it goes both ways, Clayton. There's nothing that we girls don't find out about eventually."

Clayton sighed. "All right, I guess in this case I deserve it. I've been an ass. You two and Courtney are allowed to have relationships off base, but the guys can't, and that's not fair. So as of now, I'm rescinding that policy. I just don't know how to tell everyone it's okay without making a big public announcement.

"You don't need to. Just let us take care of it." Shana grinned mischievously. "It's not as if the rule hasn't already been ignored and trampled on every chance we got, after all."

Clayton stared at her suspiciously. "Just how many of the guys have been breaking that rule? No, I'm not going to yell—it would be kind of pointless—"

"—but you'd like to know just how much has been going on that you don't know about," Allie finished. "Well, let's see. Wild Bill. Brawler. Doc and Lifeline both, Lifeline's got this cute little nurse at Manhattan General and Doc is sort of seeing a doctor at the Brooklyn Medical Clinic. Stretcher has been seeing a young private over at Fort Hamilton. Striker has been flirting with this little bartender in the Village and Quick Kick's been seeing a receptionist for one of those big Manhattan law firms. There are a few others but I can't think of them right now."

"So does this mean that you're not going to reassign Ettienne if he wants to continue seeing Alex? I heard Olivia and Ettienne talking in the mess hall last night. Ettienne said that if the policy remained in place he was going to ask for a transfer to another Marine base…and if he couldn't get one in the New York area close enough to be with Alex he would muster out, resign his commission, and open up a Cajun restaurant in order to be near her." Allie told him flatly.

Clayton belatedly realized his mouth was open. "You're kidding."

"Nope." Allie folded her arms and sat back.

"But…he's a career soldier. He wouldn't give up his career for the last girl he was in love with, when he signed on ten years ago."

"He loved her, but he wasn't in love with her. His career was still more important than she was. I saw that when he signed on. But with Alex…Ettienne's in love with her, Clayton, and it's not going to be a passing thing either. He's found someone he cares about more than he cares about his life, his career."

"But what if Alex doesn't feel the same way, Allie? What if she's with him right now because he helped her out during the worst of her recovery, but what if once she's completely healed and back on her feet, what if she decides he's not what she really wants? What will he do then?"

"Oh please, have you seen the two of them together? Have you seen the way they look at each other? Did you see what happened when you all got off the transport? She took one look at him and her face lit up like a Christmas tree. You could see her happiness, it was just radiating off her. If you think that's not love, then you haven't really been watching Dash and Allie all these years because she looks the same when Dash comes back from a mission without her." Shana smiled sweetly at Allie.

Allie shot a dirty look at the redhead, which Clayton chose to ignore for the moment. "Olivia asked Ettienne that question," Allie said, pointedly ignoring Shana's outburst. "She asked Ettienne what he would do if he went and made this huge step, if he resigned his commission and opened up that restaurant and then found out after he'd done that that Alex wanted to see someone else. You know what he said? He said that was her choice if she wanted to do that, he just wanted to make sure she was happy." Allie sat back and a tiny smile curved her lips. "And then he threatened to hurt whoever made her unhappy."

Shana burst out laughing. "Can't you just see him standing there in a chef's apron waving a meat cleaver and threatening to make andouille out of whoever the poor sucker was who went out with Alex?"

Clayton had to chuckle at that mental picture. "Problem with that is that I know he has the skills to make sausage out of whoever breaks Alex's heart," he said. "But seriously, getting back to the original question…no, I'm not going to demand that Ettienne give up Alex, especially after hearing what you just told me. He'll stay here as long as he wants and see her as long as she'll have him. And if they decide they want to grow old together, then, well, I'll support them in that too. She's had too much heartbreak and pain already in her life, I don't have to make it any harder. I've seen the way they look at each other, and I can't get in the way of that and consider myself a good person." He rose, reached for the crutches. "So go spread the word through that female grapevine of yours. Off base relationships are fine. I don't mind if my soldiers spend an occasional night at some girl's place either, so no sneaking back in after curfew. Just…no bringing those civilians on base. That is an official rule. I broke it for Alex and Olivia, but they are leaving now that the current emergency's over."

Shana disappeared with alacrity, no doubt gone off to spread the word, and Clayton expected Allie to do the same. He was therefore surprised when she didn't disappear immediately, but waited for the door to close behind Shana. "Still got something on your mind?"

She didn't smile, which made him suddenly worried. "What's wrong?" he asked her, sitting down again.

She sat for a minute, silently, then blew out her breath all at once as if she'd just made up her mind about something. "There's a little part of me says I shouldn't say anything until she comes to you herself, but I don't know if you may have had a discussion with her about the topic already and made your feelings clear. Clayton, have you and Olivia discussed kids?"

His stunned look told Allie what she wanted to know. "What did you tell her?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"Clayton, for God's sake, don't be such a thickheaded male. Just tell me what she told you…and what you told her."

"She said she would love kids but she'd never found the right man, and now it was too late. And I told her this was a dangerous job and it would be too easy for someone who doesn't like us to use them against me. So I don't want kids."

"When did you have this conversation?"

He had to think. "Right before we left for Washington."

She stared at him for long moments, then got up slowly and stalked to the door. "Jesus, Clayton, sometimes you can be a real asshole."

"Watch your mouth, Staff Sergeant, I'm your commanding officer!" He was angry now. "Just what the hell do you mean by that?"

"You're the commanding officer. Figure it out. Didn't you tell Dash that you understood how he felt after the way they made Dash rape Alex? I assume you meant Velez did the same thing to you, right? Jesus, Clayton, get that goddamn thick male head out of your ass and think about it!" She whirled and left, slamming the door to his office.

Alone in his office, Clayton stared at the closed door. Allie never slammed doors unless she was really, really pissed. And she _never_ swore. Once, only, and that was when a new recruit had been so busy showing off in front of his buddies that he'd stepped in a hole in the ground and broken his leg. She'd sworn at him in every language she knew, including English, and her command of invective had left even Courtney's eyes popping out.

What _had_ he done? A discussion with Olivia about kids. They'd chatted lightly on one of their dates, then the discussion about Calvin in Colombia, but he hadn't paid much attention, he'd been just trying to keep her mind off her own pain. And then here at base, when she'd come in the rec room in the middle of the night. Looking at the chess board. Talking about whether Alex would let him cheat. Cheating…like Dash felt, wrongly, that he'd somehow cheated on Allie having sex with another woman…

And then it hit him.

He sat down hard in his chair, barely noticing when it jarred his injured leg. "She can't be." But it made sense. He had no idea how many times he'd been forced to come inside her, how many times they'd both come. And no other male had touched her.

She'd bled, she'd torn, but he remembered the doctors saying something about the tearing being only superficial, that it hadn't torn her uterine walls. He'd been half-awake when he'd heard one doctor say 'she'll still be able to have kids then.'

Wouldn't she have asked for a pill? But even as he thought that, he answered himself; _no_. She was completely out of it, between the drugs and the pain, dehydration and blood loss and infection…the doctors in Medellin would have concentrated on patching her up to send her to Miami, and Chief General Hill had been mostly worried about getting all of them home. No one would have thought of asking, and she might not have even thought of it herself. But now he could see the signs were there…her extreme fatigue—though that could have been because of the drugs. Nausea—though that could have been attributable to the antivirals they'd given her just in case she'd been exposed to HIV or other disease. The infection the doctors were worried about—always a cause for worry, but if she were pregnant it would be an even bigger cause for concern.

_She's pregnant. And it's probably mine._ The thought hit him like a ton of bricks. Part of his mind went into gibbering panic, thinking about bottles and diapers and midnight feedings…but suddenly a new mental picture intruded. Playing football on a grassy lawn with a little boy who looked like him. Working on Olivia's car with a little boy who had Olivia's eyes and Clayton's smile.

Or…a little girl with Olivia's big brown eyes and short brown hair, screaming with laughter as she danced in and out of a sprinkler. A little girl with Clayton's blue eyes and Olivia's brown hair bouncing up and down in the back of Olivia's Mustang. Or a tomboy like her mother, working on the car with him in ten years or so, handing him wrenches and tools.

And then another thought; Olivia, glowing and hugely pregnant with his child. Complaining about her weight gain while he laughed at her and bought her pickles and ice cream or whatever it was that pregnant women craved. Olivia, cuddling a tiny baby in a hospital bed, glowing with motherly pride and emotion and exclaiming over tiny feet and hands. And the thought that she'd wanted a child, for a very long time, and he'd been able to give her what she wanted.

"I _am_ an asshole. Oh God. I told her I didn't want kids and she's pregnant and she thinks I'm going to abandon her or insist that she give it up for adoption or have an abortion. And she wants kids so badly she was willing to go through red tape to try and adopt and the bureaucracy wouldn't let her. You were right, Allie, I'm an asshole."

He heaved himself out of the chair and grabbed for the crutches. Fourth of July, Joe base. It was a tradition that any Joes still on base on the night of the Fourth would gather at the Narrows Lighthouse on Battery Weed and watch the fireworks in New York Harbor. While for much of the country it was a cause for celebration, the Joes were usually quiet when they gathered for the fireworks because each one that went off was a personal offering to the ghosts of the fellow soldiers and friends that they had lost. Allie, Shana, and Courtney usually brought candles, placed them on the ground, and kept them lit for the entire fusillade of colored light, ending the evening with a solemn recitation of the names of friends they'd lost over the last year. Sometimes the list was short, sometimes it was longer, but it was tradition, and this year he just knew Olivia and Alex would be with the rest of the Joes.

Allie was sitting on the ground next to Dash; she turned at the sound of Clayton's crutches scuffling the dirt, but he shook his head when she made a move to get up, then brought one arm up in a salute. To her. Her eyes softened; she knew he knew what Olivia had been trying to tell him, now, and she nodded slightly, to where Olivia was sitting by herself, looking out over the dark water to the Verrazano Narrows Bridge.

"Hey." She didn't start; she'd known he was coming. He took her silence as assent and lowered himself to a sitting position next to her, then tried to figure out what to say to break the uncomfortable silence between them.

"I don't know for certain." Only he, sitting so close to her, would have heard her whisper in the dark. "I haven't had the nerve to ask Doc if he would do a pregnancy test. But Allie says she's about eighty percent sure I am. And I don't…I don't know what to do."

He didn't even think. "Olivia, if you are pregnant, do you want the child?"

"Yes." Unhesitating.

"Then I don't see the problem."

"You said…you said you didn't want kids. And I do. And I'd love any child of yours; you're a good man, and I know that even though I haven't known you long. But…if you really don't want them, are you going to…to ask me to…" she couldn't even finish.

He was horrified. "Olivia, for God's sake, no. If you really think I'm a good man, how you could even think that I would ask you to…do that…Jesus."

Her voice was so quiet that he had to strain to hear her. "My mother was raped by my biological father. Every time she looked at me she saw him. She started drinking when I was very young, and when she got drunk enough she'd…hurt me."

Oh, Christ. Clayton's heart pounded painfully in his chest, and he wrapped an arm around Olivia, feeling tears sting his eyes. "Are you worried that you'll turn into your mother? Are you worried you won't love the baby?"

"No. No, I'm not. I could never…I know how I felt and I could never do that to a child. I'm worried that…that if I…have the baby…you'll hate it because you were forced to rape me."

"No. Never." He hugged her fiercely. "Olivia. What happened wasn't the baby's fault. It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't mine. Circumstances just forced us into that situation." He took a deep breath, cupped her chin, forced her to look up at him. "But you want a child. And you're in what, your forties? There may not be another chance. So if you want it, have it. I'll support you, in whatever decision you make. And you won't go at it alone. There's a base full of people who will be glad to help babysit. Including your best friend, who just happens to be my Private, and my Staff Sergeant, my Master Sergeant, and my Corporal."

"You're not going to be one of those traditional types that's going to insist that I marry you, are you?"

Clayton laughed. "Leaving aside the fact that I will never hear the end of it from my soldiers, no. I have known you for all of about two months, and that's not long enough to know if we can really love each other or if it will be a marriage of pure convenience. I've never wanted a wife who I had to protect, but neither have I ever wanted one who I didn't love. Liv, if you want the baby, then have it. And we'll just…take things as they go. I'm not going to insist my name be on the birth certificate, and I'm not going to sue you for custody unless you were to suddenly go stark raving mad and become a danger to it. However, I will have to insist that since I'm a two star General and you are a lowly public servant, I will be paying for some of the diapers and bottles and blankets and whatever else the baby needs."

"If I'm pregnant and I have a baby."

He nodded. "If you're pregnant. Which right now you're not sure. So let's sit back, enjoy the fireworks and our private ceremony afterwards, and worry about everything else tomorrow." And as he spoke, the first flare of color splashed across the dark night sky.

Halfway through the show he felt her hand creep into his, and grasp his fingers in a gentle squeeze. He smiled, squeezed back, and they watched the rest of the fireworks holding hands.


	26. Chapter 88: Test

**Chapter 88: Test**

Doc smiled cheerfully as he saw Olivia and Alex coming into the infirmary. "Glad to see you two up and about together. I'll bet it's good to finally rest for a moment and catch your breath."

"Just for a moment," Alex sighed. "With the current emergency over now we have to focus on where we go from here. Where am I going to live, how am I going to get a job, where am I going to get a job, all that stuff." She sighed, then straightened. "But that's not what we came here to talk about."

"I need a favor," Olivia's voice was quiet. "Can you do a pregnancy test on me?"

Doc's mind skidded to a screeching halt. "What?"

Olivia and Alex both cracked faint smiles. "A pregnancy test. You know, to see if I'm… expecting."

"How could….what could…who…" he couldn't gather his scattered thoughts long enough to get a complete sentence out.

"In Medellin." Olivia looked at her hands, and for the first time Doc noticed how tightly they were folded around each other. She was really nervous about this. "Velez and Sandra…they…"

She was clearly struggling, so Alex broke in. "Velez and Sandra did to Clayton and Olivia what Zimurinda did to Dash and me," she said quietly, finally. "But I was hurt far worse and there was no way I would have gotten pregnant, with all the damage that was done. Olivia wasn't hurt as badly, as deeply, and the Army doctors in Medellin didn't even think about contraceptives."

"She was so out of it that she couldn't ask for any while we were there, and apparently no one thought of it," came a new voice, and all three of them turned as Clayton shuffled into the infirmary on his crutches. "Yes, Doc, I know about this. Liv and I had this discussion yesterday."

"And…you're… okay with this?" Doc was still having a hard time wrapping his head around the concept. "You, General-I-don't-want-kids? Your position about kids is legendary on base."

"Doc, I don't think that's any of your business," Clayton said sharply. "But yes, I know what my official position has been thus far, and I also know I'm going to catch hell from several directions over this." At Doc's look, he ducked his head, looked slightly embarrassed. "I don't know what Shana and Courtney are going to say, but, um, Allie cussed me out and slammed my office door."

"_Allie_ cussed you out." Doc surveyed him with narrowed eyes. "Allie, who never swears and never slams doors. Well, then I'd say she said everything I would have said to you." He turned, went into his office, came out with a syringe and a small vial. "Just one small blood sample, Olivia, and I'll have results for you in an hour."

Olivia held her arm steady as he took the blood sample, and he deftly withdrew the needle and taped a small piece of gauze over the puncture in her elbow. "You're welcome to wait here if you like, or come back later," he said, and disappeared. Olivia sucked in a deep breath, started to turn toward the door, and almost fell as her knees buckled. Clayton tried to grab for her and missed, his hands full of crutches, but Alex caught Olivia before she fell and steered her toward a chair. "Sit down," she said firmly. "You've been under a lot of stress lately and you're still recovering. Not to mention which, if you are pregnant, the baby's taking your resources too. I'll wait with you."

"So will I." Since Alex had taken the only other chair available, Clayton hauled himself on top of one of the beds and sat down, propping his cast-wrapped leg on the bed.

"Me too." They all turned, to see Ettienne come in, and despite her nerves and her worry, Olivia had to fight the smile as Alex got up from her chair to greet him with a kiss. Both of them lit up at the sight of each other. She really loves him, Olivia thought, and as she caught Clayton's eye she knew he was thinking the same thing. Alex sat back down in her chair, and Ettienne leaned on the back of it, draping his arms over her shoulders from behind. Her hands came up almost unconsciously and she linked her fingers with his. "So what are we waiting for."

"Olivia's pregnancy test results." It was Alex who'd spoken; Alex who giggled at Ettienne's dumbfounded look.

"Um…who…" And then it clicked, and his eyes widened. "Clayton?"

Clayton ducked his head. "Um. Yeah."

"But…you don't like kids. You don't want them. Are you going to…how is that going to work?"

"Hey, why is it about him?" Olivia challenged. "I'm the one who's going to be carrying and having the child."

She shook her head firmly as she faced the three of them. "I am not a helpless little china doll. And there are plenty of single mothers out there who manage to work and raise children just fine. I am not going to marry Clayton just because half the baby's DNA is his; if I get married it will be because I love the man, not out of convenience. If Clayton wants it, yes, his name can be on the birth certificate, but I'm going to make that optional because I don't know what his superiors are going to think, or how something like this is going to affect his career. From listening to everyone talk, you all broke a lot of rules through this whole affair and there will be an accounting at some point, after the dust settles and the government is finished rounding up all of Velez's remaining conspirators and shutting down the rest of his organization, and I don't want to make them any more upset with him than they might already be if they find out he got a civilian pregnant. So, while he's made it clear that he'll help financially if the baby needs something I can't provide, for all intents and purposes it's my baby, not his."

Ettienne looked at Clayton, who nodded. "You know that's going to change once the baby gets here. Right now it's just theoretical, but things're going to be really different once it gets here."

"Nothing's going to change. I'm dedicated to this job and this post and you soldiers, and I don't really like kids. So if Liv's okay with this arrangement then I'm okay with it too."

"I'm going to remind you of that when you're running out to the hospital after getting a call from Olivia in the middle of the night saying she's in labor," Ettienne smiled.

"No he won't because I won't be calling him." Olivia said firmly.

Alex gave Ettienne's hand an unnoticeable squeeze. _Don't worry, I'll call you and you can tell Clayton. She's not going to do this alone, no matter how much she thinks she will now._

He squeezed back. _It's going to be different once Clayton sees Olivia and the baby. There's no way he'll stay indifferent. He's not that cold-hearted._ Aloud, all he said was, "We'll see."

Their conversation ceased as Doc's office door opened. "It didn't take as much time as I thought it was going to," he said cheerfully. "I ran the test twice to make sure."

"I'm going to have a baby." Olivia said quietly.

Doc smiled crookedly. "Congratulations." He looked at Clayton. "I'd say congratulations but I know how you feel, so I'll wait until that changes before I say it."

"It's not going to change!" Clayton tried to insist, but Doc just smiled and turned to Olivia.

"You'll have to see a regular OB/GYN as soon as possible. You're in your, what, early to mid forties? That puts you in the high-risk category as far as pregnancies go, plus all the mental, emotional, and physical strain of the last couple of months. I also want the OB/GYN to have look at the tearing and damage; while most of it is superficial and won't interfere with carrying a child, the birth might be…difficult…and I think they'll probably want to do a c-section delivery. Either way, I foresee a great deal of bed rest in your future and a two to three month vacation from work in your last trimester just to make sure nothing goes wrong." He turned to Ettienne. "Your friend from the Marines is her partner on the NYPD, right?"

Ettienne grinned widely. "He'll make sure she follows rules on the job. And his wife has kids of her own, right?"

"Five," Alex smiled. "So yeah, Elliot knows how to handle pregnant women."

"Okay, that's it," Olivia got up. "I don't need a bunch of overprotective males hovering over me. Seriously. I'll follow the doctor's rules, I'll get plenty of rest and I'll be fine. It's my body and my baby, okay? Come on, Alex, we have some packing to do."

Ettienne gave Alex a kiss. "See you later, chere," he murmured, then headed out the door right after the two women.

Doc helped Clayton off the infirmary bed, and headed to his own office. Just as he got inside, he heard Clayton mutter, "It's my baby too."

He closed the door so Clayton wouldn't hear him laughing.

"It didn't look like much when I packed it," Olivia looked ruefully at the piles of clothes folded neatly on the bed next to their only suitcase; hers, the one she'd packed when Clayton had told her that Alex needed comfortable clothing. "Somehow it multiplied and I don't think it's all going to fit now."

"I think some of this is stuff the girls let me borrow. There's only the three of them here and they trade clothes around like we do." Alex pointed to one pile. "Not to mention which, the fatigues do take a lot of room. But we don't have to pack them, we'll leave those here. I don't think I'll have an occasion to wear them again." She picked up the pile and carefully put it back in the footlocker, then looked around wistfully. "You know, I think I'm actually going to miss this place."

"You're going to miss the people more than the place," Olivia corrected her. "One person in particular. Jesus, Alex, for someone who swore off serious relationships…"

"Yeah, it kind of snuck up on me. I know you're laughing," Alex gave Olivia a wry look, to which Olivia responded by giggling, "Go ahead and laugh. Yes, I am going to miss him, I got used to seeing him every day while I was here. But…he's been a constant factor ever since I woke up from the coma, and I have to see how much of what I'm feeling is due to the fact that I'm grateful to him for helping save my life…and how much of that is because I really do love him."

"Do you love him?" Olivia asked as she sat down and started putting clothes into the suitcase.

"Yes. I do." No doubt, no hesitation. "I've never known anyone like him, Liv. He's everything I ever thought I wanted in a guy."

"And he's really easy on the eyes too." Olivia grinned as she carefully folded a couple of the skirts. "Big strong, handsome, muscular…and that cute little accent he gets when he's annoyed or stressed…and he calls you little pet names in French. Awww."

Alex threw a balled pair of clean socks at Olivia, who ducked it neatly—then almost fell on the floor laughing at Alex's look of mock annoyance. "Hey, you didn't do so badly yourself. General Abernathy?" She considered. "Good man, good leader, cares about his people and everyone around him. Not as cute as 'Tienne, but still handsome if you like that weathered look. And he has lots of smile lines."

She sobered. "Liv, just between the two of us…does it bother you that he seems to be indifferent your pregnancy and the fact that you're going to have his baby? Truthfully. I'm not going to tell Ettienne, this is just between us."

Olivia looked thoughtful. "I don't want you to think I'm heartless, but honestly, Alex, at the moment it's not bothering me at all. I guess…I grew up without a father, and did fine, and I guess I'm being a little selfish when I say I don't want to share. This baby is going to be mine, Alex, someone I love and who will love me unconditionally in return. I've never had that, Alex. I never knew my father, and my Mom…our relationship was better the last year or so of her life, but I never felt for my mother what you felt for yours. This is my chance to have a real relationship with someone related to me. And I've always wanted kids, Alex, you know that, but it just never happened."

She looked down at her still-flat stomach, smoothed her shirt down over it. "Before this all happened, I thought it was too late, Alex. Over the last year I've been missing periods, even when I wasn't stressed. I told Clayton that I thought it was too late, but here I am, expecting, and I'm not going to lose this chance. I was afraid when I told Clayton that he'd ask me to have an abortion or give the baby up because he didn't want them—we had a discussion about kids when were in Colombia as Velez's guests. Allie said she heard me talking to Ettienne in the mess hall one night when you were in Washington testifying, and she told Clayton—if she hadn't he wouldn't have known because I was planning on not telling him. He does have some valid reasons; any enemies he made could potentially come after me and the baby, and we are safer if no one knows." She looked at Alex. "What do you think? Truthfully."

"I think both of you are being stupid." Alex was blunt and to the point. "I think you're spending too much time thinking about what may happen instead of what is going to happen, which is that you are going to have a baby and it is his. And yours," she added hastily at Olivia's look. "And I think that his indifference is mostly due to the fact that he's still thinking of a baby as an abstract intangible, and I think—I know—that's going to change as he sees your stomach getting bigger and bigger with the baby. By the time it gets here he's going to be a nervous wreck, and he'll be there when you go into labor."

"No he won't, because I'm not going to tell him, and you won't either." Olivia stared at Alex until the blond sighed and looked her in the eye. "Promise me, Alex. You're not going to tell him."

Alex dropped her eyes and mumbled something.

"What?" Olivia leaned in.

"Fine!" Alex snapped. "You want it that way, fine, I promise I won't tell him, and then you can deal with a pissed-off two star General when you tell him you had his baby and he wasn't there!" She kicked the edge of her footlocker with a toe, then immediately regretted it as her foot started hurting.

Olivia considered. "Do you think he's going to change his mind?"

"Absolutely." Alex folded her arms.

Olivia considered. 'Then let's just take it as it comes. We'll see what happens and we'll decide what to do if that happens."

"When it happens. Not if. When." Alex was adamant.

"Whatever." Olivia resumed packing. "You know, if you're going to live with me for the time being until you can get your own place again, we may have to change rooms. The spare bedroom is a little bigger than mine and I think I'll need the extra space for a baby crib."

"Absolutely," Alex said firmly as she started putting clothes in the suitcase, thankful that they were changing the subject. "And a changing table."

Olivia said reflectively, "Come to think of it, Kathy has a lot of baby stuff now that Eli's growing out of it and she absolutely refused to have any more kids, so she will probably be overjoyed to have someone to give some of the baby stuff to."

Alex grinned. "And Maureen and Kathleen and Lizzie are experienced with babies so you won't have a problem finding a babysitter…"


	27. Chapter 89: DC

**Chapter 89: DC**

"So give me the news."

The entire Defense Cabinet looked askance as the President walked in with the First Lady. "Will told me all about this, and I've taken an interest in it," Catherine Whitmore said shortly as she seated herself at the table, and when the President just nodded quietly, backing her, the two men shrugged.

The CIA head went first. "His name is Felipe Alvarez Gaviria, and he is indeed the brother of the man that Ms Cabot prosecuted five years ago in the Manhattan courts. Nine months ago he requested a month-long leave of absence from the Ambassador's entourage to take care of some personal business, and the Ambassador allowed him that leave. He stopped at the UN where, under the umbrella of his ambassadorial status, he made contact with the Colombian representative to the UN, who apparently was either blackmailed into cooperating or was already in Cesar Velez's pocket, and convinced him to use his influence to send out a UN military operation to eliminate the African rogue militia threat. This happened to coincide with Sandra Milena Velasquez's efforts at the ICC to get Ms. Cabot out into the DRC jungle, and with General Clancy's self-serving efforts to not only cover up evidence of his affair with Ms. Velasquez but also to discredit General Clayton Abernathy and have himself appointed to General Abernathy's highly-classified command position at the head of the G.I. Joe project. About five months ago he took another leave of absence, only this time it was two weeks. He offered the ambassador no explanation for where he was or what he had been doing, and the man never thought to ask."

The CIA head spoke now. "He trusted Gaviria completely, and what was said was a shock to him. That was why he waived Gaviria's diplomatic immunity. When our vehicles took him back to his hotel he sent Mr. Gaviria's personal belongings back with the driver and a low-level aide. As you can no doubt guess, any confidential files and paperwork have been removed from the belongings, but we did find this in a pocket of the suitcase." He tapped a small blue and white paper envelope sitting on the tabletop. "We haven't decided yet whether to retain it as evidence or to simply destroy it."

"What is it?"

The CIA guy hesitated before he spoke slowly, reluctantly. "The photos he apparently took of Ms. Cabot while she was…in the DRC."

"He kept them?" Whitmore reached across the table, opened the envelope, pulled out the first photo. The loathing and revulsion on his face was mirrored by every person sitting at the table, and he put it back into the envelope and threw it back on the table. "Have someone go through it. Take out one or two of the least obscene pictures and destroy the rest. Christ, no wonder she looked like she was going to faint in there." Beside him, the First Lady picked up the envelope and looked inside. She tried to remain impassive as she looked through them, but a few even made her grimace in disgust. Finally she took two pictures out; one of Alex, fully clothed, hanging by her cuffed wrists from a tree next to an American soldier; the fatigues were unmistakable, and both were unconscious; the other picture of that same American soldier sitting on the floor of a dirt pen with Alex's head in his lap, back pressed against the chain link, shirtless because his fatigue top covered most of Alex's nudity; but there was enough of her legs showing for anyone looking to see the seeping blood from the cuts and welts on her lower inner thighs, around her knees, and her calves and feet, and the raw bloody wrists…you could see she'd been tortured but the full extent of the damage was hidden. "Keep these. Destroy the rest." She threw the envelope back on the table. "She deserves a medal for having gone through this. And then choosing to go to Colombia to ostensibly exchange her life for General Abernathy and her civilian friend, knowing that this would happen to her again if she were captured."

"That was never going to be a possibility, Ma'am. We had so much military in the area, and the President himself said her safety was our first priority. He was never going to touch her again."

"But he did. Didn't you see the bruises on her face? He gave her a couple of black eyes before she managed to kill him…and I'm surprised at that too, she's in pain now and how she managed to kill him, and then to make the trip here, amazes me." At the President's look, Catherine explained, "When I took a look at her scars. She was trying to hide it but she was still exhibiting pain reactions when I touched some of them." She looked at the men. "And I also learned that when the UN declared her dead, her social security number was deactivated, her law license with it. And Velez hacked into her bank account and took everything she had. Can someone look into having her identity reinstated so that she has some of her life back?" From the stunned looks on everyone's faces, they either hadn't known or the thought hadn't occurred to them. Catherine rolled her eyes as she got up. "Men." She picked up the envelope from the table. "I'll take care of this personally, she wouldn't appreciate anyone else looking at her body." And she marched out.

There was silence for a full minute, and then the President cleared his throat. "And that is why I married her." There was a chorus of chuckles around the table, and they returned to business.

It wasn't until later, walking back to the family wing, thinking about Cath and what she'd said, that it hit him.

Cath was already in bed, remote in hand, flicking through channels trying to find something other than news when he got in beside her. "I've been thinking about what you said," he started without preamble.

"About Alex's law license?" it was so funny, that he didn't even have to mention Alex's name for Cath to know what he was talking about. After almost fifteen years of marriage, they practically knew what the other was thinking.

"That too, but no, it's the other thing you said. About her getting a medal. There are lots of civilian decorations out there for private citizens, and she definitely deserves it for what she's gone through."

Cath turned to look at him. "Do you think she deserves it for what she's gone through or does she deserve it for being selfless?"

"I don't know. Everything, I guess. All of it. I know I've taken a very public stance on pulling this country out of the ICC, but it's mostly because I don't feel they're effectively using the resources they have. But Ms. Cabot chose to give up her comfortable life as a lawyer to go volunteer at the ICC, then to become a victim's advocate and volunteer to go into the depths of the jungle to get testimony from brutalized women and injured children—that's a degree of selflessness that most people don't have. It's one thing to be a public servant; it's another to be out there putting your life in danger to speak for someone who wouldn't have a voice otherwise. It takes a level of passion and dedication that's hard to find." He said quietly, "I keep thinking about what the Warrant Officer said about her. She didn't expect to survive but she wanted to make sure he did, so she deliberately taunted the rogue leader, making him focus almost exclusively on her so he wouldn't hurt the officer. That takes an incredible amount of guts, Cath. Especially when you see the scars she bears now."

"Yes, I know. I saw them. I know better than you how much pain she's still in, and I don't blame her for being self conscious. Think, Will, unless she decides to go through the equally painful process of surgical removal, she'll never be able to wear a bathing suit again, never be able to wear tank tops or an off-the-shoulder dress. Not to mention what every boyfriend she'll have from here on out will think when he sees what she looks like under her clothes. It'll be an extraordinary man who will be able to get past what she looks like to see who she really is. And even then…a physical relationship will be…difficult, given the permanent damage they did to her body."

"That never occurred to me." Will lay back in bed, not even seeing the political satirist on TV carping on the latest Presidential approval polls.

"Well, whatever you do, I'm nominating her for one of next year's Women of Courage award. Not just because of her self-sacrificing actions in the militia camp, taking pain on herself to save your soldier, but because of her work and her efforts for the victims of the human rights atrocities in the DRC. And you have to consider the international ramifications of Cesar Velez's death. Without him the Medellin drug cartel collapses, and so do all the supply lines. The DEA will love her for that. Velez was smuggling weapons and money all over the world; I wonder how many of our servicemen will live now that our foes won't have access to the arms Velez sold them? That'll make the ATF happy. And ICE will love her too for at least partially stopping the human trafficking in children out of the war-torn regions of Africa. I know her only thought was to get him out of her life permanently but she did a lot of good by killing him. And I wonder if she's thought of that, and I wonder if she would think all of that was worth the price she paid in her own blood and pain. Has anyone even told her what kind of good she's done? Does she know how many lives she might have saved, that she should be proud of her scars because it means that some child somewhere won't have them on their body?"

As they waited for the UN to acknowledge their findings and bring international laws to bear against the Colombian UN ambassador, Whitmore brought it up with his defense chiefs. "I believe that Ms. Cabot deserves some sort of official recognition of her efforts."

He was met with disbelieving skeptical looks. The Secretary of State spoke first. "Mr. President, awards are generally given for civilians who have put forth extraordinary effort and risked their lives. Ms. Cabot didn't really risk her life, she was the target of one obsessed madman. It was a personal feud that just happened to involve a few members of our military. I'm not sure we shouldn't quietly reprimand those officers for getting involved. I realize protecting her was in their mission parameters, and that the General who told them not to attempt a rescue was rogue, but he was still their commanding officer and they should have obeyed the orders they were given."

"Oh for pity's sake. You can't honestly believe that," the Secretary of Defense spoke up, turning on the other man. "We hold our soldiers to the highest standards of honor and human morals. In this instance these soldiers upheld our highest ideals by placing life, human decency, kindness and compassion over orders and duty. And that is what we trained them to do. The first rule of the US Armed Forces is not obedience, it is honor, and where would have been the honor in leaving a defenseless, gravely wounded US citizen alone in hostile territory and in easy reach of enemy hands? Especially when her efforts could have just saved the life of one of their own?"

"The Warrant Officer? His life would have never been in danger if it hadn't been for her!" The Secretary of State blustered, but the Secretary of Foreign Affairs interrupted.

"Neither of their lives would have been in danger if it hadn't been for General Clancy, who orchestrated all of this at the behest of an obsessed madman in order to cover up a personal indiscretion. Neither Ms. Cabot nor our soldiers asked to be placed in this situation; that they ended up in it at all was due to an unfortunate set of circumstances and one tactically brilliant but morally bankrupt obsessed druglord. I think they did the absolute best they could with the situation they were given and I personally will support President Whitmore if he chooses to recognize Ms. Cabot's heroism with an official award."

"The First Lady has already announced her intention to nominate Ms. Cabot for next year's International Women of Courage Award, not for this deplorable affair, but for her advocacy work with the victimized women and children in the Congo."

"Velez's main line of business was drug smuggling. And he was guilty of human trafficking and arms dealing, too. What brought the Colombians' attention to our operation was the three pronged attack on Velez's arms warehouse, his drug warehouse, and his human trafficking base." The Secretary of Defense was flipping through the report in front of him. "How many people did they get out of that warehouse?"

"Forty two. Seventeen of them were children under the age of twelve, twenty were between the age of twelve and sixteen, which is the most popular age range for child sex slaves, and the rest were women no doubt to be sold as slave labor or into prostitution. And thirty of those were female." The Secretary of Foreign affairs read it from his copy of the report.

"Did we get drugs?"

The Secretary of the Interior snorted. "'Did we get drugs', he asks. Yes, we definitely got drugs. Last I heard was about ten million dollars worth of pure cocaine, heroin, and other drugs. They even found some variants we'd never seen before."

"Did we get any arms out of that warehouse?"

The Secretary of Foreign Affairs answered this time from his copy. "Sixteen crates of old Russian-made AK47's. Twenty-crates of illegally manufactured grenades, ten crates of assault rifles, and another ten crates of forty to fifty caliber firearms. About twenty crates of assorted ammunition for same. All of them had serial numbers filed off, and some of the crates had countries painted on them. Here's the list. Iran, Afghanistan, Libya, Israel, Pakistan, the DRC, Russia, China, and North Korea."

"He was arming a lot of America's enemies. Jesus. Cath was right when she said that Alex Cabot killing Cesar Velez could have saved hundreds of our soldiers." President Whitmore looked stunned.

The Secretary of Defense closed his report. "I would like to personally nominate Ms. Alexandra Cabot for the Secretary of Defense Medal for Valor. Since this was not in a combat zone against an armed enemy of the US, she doesn't qualify for a Presidential award, but the Secretary of Defense award I'm proposing can be given to military employees and private citizens who perform an act of heroism or sacrifice with voluntary risk to personal safety in the face of danger."

"Done." President Whitmore smiled.

"How about the Outstanding Civilian Service Award that the Department of the Army has to that other civilian, Ms. Cabot's friend, the one who got General Abernathy out of the Colombian jungle after he broke his leg? She risked her own life to save his, and she'd been tortured and pumped full of hallucinatory drugs. I would say that falls under the 'substantial contribution of significance to the Army.'" The Secretary of Foreign Affairs piped up. "And that spunky little redhead who reacted faster than all of us and got that Colombian off Ms. Cabot before he strangled her. And she did spearhead the operation into uncovering the subversion in the ICC. Soldier's Medal should reward that kind of 'heroism not involving actual conflict with an enemy'."

"If you're going to give it to Master Sergeant O'Hara then you have to give it to the soldier who helped her there too."

"Fine. And what about that Warrant Officer, the one who was captured with her? Staying with her, getting her out, trying to keep her safe, I think that qualifies for the Meritorious Service Medal. And for his second in command, um, Staff Sergeant Alison Hart-Burnett, the one who made the decision to buck orders and go into the jungle to find and rescue them. She took a bullet and almost died in the escape."

"And this soldier who was the first one to defy his orders; when they talked about getting out and going home and leaving Ms Cabot there he told them he would resign his commission to stay and protect her if he had to. That swayed all of them."

"But he's not a soldier, he's a Marine. Gunnery Sergeant Ettienne LaFitte."

"The Marines have their own medals. We'll let them pick."

"Well, heck, if you're really that anxious to pin medals on people's chests, why not just decorate the whole unit, all the soldiers on General Abernathy's project? Get it done and over with."

"Yes. I think that's a good idea. Let our soldiers know that we value intelligence, honor, kindness and human compassion even above obedience to orders and superior officers." President Whitmore was smiling; he was glad he'd talked them into it. Now he just had to break the news to General Abernathy and the Joes. And hold a ball here for the awards ceremony…

He'd let Cath plan it. She'd love it.


	28. Chapter 90: Commendations

**Chapter 90: Commendations**

"They're going to _what_?"

There was complete silence in the mess hall as everyone tried to absorb what Hawk had just told them. "Read that again. They're going to what?" Shana demanded.

Clayton cleared his throat, staring down at the paper. "We've been requested to come to Washington to attend an award ceremony. All of us who were involved in the entire affair." He read from the letter. " 'There will be unit commendations handed out to everyone, with special recognition for General Clayton Abernathy, Warrant Officer Dashiell Faireborn, Master Sergeants Shana O'Hara and Snake Eyes, Staff Sergeant Alison Hart-Burnett, Marine Gunnery Sergeant Ettienne LaFitte, First Sergeant Conrad Hauser and Corporal Courtney Krieger. Civilian awards will also be given to Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot and New York Detective Olivia Benson in recognition of their extraordinary efforts and self-sacrifice for the good of the country.' "

Cheering erupted among the Joes, but Alex and Olivia could only sit and stare at each other numbly, unable to process fully what Clayton had read to them. Alex finally broke the silence. "I don't….why? Why would they want to do this? Is it because they feel sorry for me, after seeing the scars? I don't want an award out of pity, I just want my life back, I want to be me again, I just want to be left alone! What I did…it wasn't anything that anyone else wouldn't have done. I haven't saved any lives, I haven't done anything noteworthy! I pissed off a dangerous obsessed druglord and a lot of people died who didn't have to!" She looked at Clayton. "Can I refuse?"

Clayton stared at her. Out of all the reactions he'd thought she would have, this hadn't even crossed his mind. "Refuse?" his voice cracked. "Alex, I'm not sure you understand. The Secretary of Defense Medal for Valor is for military employees and private citizens who perform an act of heroism or sacrifice with voluntary risk to personal safety in the face of danger. I would say that describes what you've done perfectly. You taunted a dangerous militia leader so that he would focus on hurting you and spare a soldier of the United States Army. That's sacrifice. And then, when you came back and you were recovering and Olivia and I were kidnapped, you volunteered to go to Medellin, to face Velez again knowing what he was capable of doing to you, and go through the motions of exchanging your life for ours. That's voluntary risk to personal safety in the face of a lot of danger. Yes, you had us and we were determined that Velez wouldn't get you again. But despite our best efforts, he still managed to bruise you up some before you killed him." He turned to Olivia. "You're getting an Outstanding Civilian Service Award for substantial contribution of significance to the Army. You did, after all, save my life. I owe you a huge one…I don't know if I can ever repay that."

He turned to the room again, cleared his throat. "I also received a report along with the invitation. At the same time that we were facing Velez at his villa and killing him, a massive three-pronged strike force was hitting all of Velez's illegal warehouses at once. DEA agents picked up about ten million dollars worth of illegal drugs, the same in illegal weapons destined for Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, the DRC, North Korea and China. The victims locked in his human trafficking warehouse were liberated; one, I believe, was a young girl who went missing here in the States about three months ago. Fourteen years old, parents divorced, and she was going to spend the summer with her father in California when she disappeared from a Florida airport where she was changing flights. No one ever knew what happened to her until she turned up in Velez's warehouse…fortunately she hadn't been sold yet and," Clayton looked at Alex, "She hadn't been raped. So you see, Alex, even though you may not see your efforts personally as qualifying you for official recognition, if you hadn't agreed to do what you did, distracting Velez while we hit all of his warehouses at once, we would never have been able to pull that off, and one young American girl would have been sold right now into a hard life as a sex slave. Or worse. You deserve this recognition, and I'm not letting you refuse." Clayton folded the letter with an air of finality, looked at Olivia. "You either. The Army spent a lot of time training me to do my job and if you hadn't saved my life all that training would have been wasted. I consider that a significant contribution to the Army, not the least because it was my life that was saved. Oh, and the official transfer papers came through with this letter as well. We'll be stopping at Fort Hamilton on the way back from Washington and picking up Corporal Simes, he's officially now a Joe."

Alex opened her mouth, and for a moment he braced himself to argue with her some more. The stubbornness that had gotten her through that hell in the DRC was now proving slightly annoying; damn it, why did she have to argue about everything? But Olivia, Allie, Shana, and Courtney shot her a look, and she apparently decided that her stubbornness wasn't going to make any sort of impression in those four, because she closed her mouth, thought twice about what she was going to say. When she spoke again, she sounded surprisingly meek. "What do I wear to something like that?"

"We military have dress uniforms—we call them Class A's—for the occasion, but you're a civilian and you can't. You'll need a suit for the official briefing and awards ceremony, and a formal dress for the military ball afterwards. And the gown will have to have a cropped jacket or shrug—or the suit jacket will need to be made of something that can double as a dinner jacket because you'll be expected to wear the Medal at the ball." Courtney took a last swallow of her coffee and stood. "Time to go shopping."

"With what? I have no money, no—" Alex stopped as Ettienne laid a hand on her arm and held out his card. "'Tienne, I can't—"

"You won't need to. Put it away, Ettienne." Clayton reached into the envelope and pulled out a smaller but no less thick packet of paperwork. "Your Social Security number has been reactivated, your law license with it. You've been reinstated as an ADA with the New York District Attorney's office, and your bank account has been returned to you with its balance where it was before Velez hacked it. Well, sort of—let's just say its contents have been returned to you with interest, a token of the US government's appreciation for what you've done. They took it out of Velez's seized accounts, so I'd say Velez owed it to you. And of course you have the pay you drew as a private here."

Alex stared at the envelope and the handful of paper he shoved at her. "I…don't know what to say…"

"Thank you would be a good place to start." Allie was looking at Alex with amusement plain on her face. "And then I think your next words should be 'let's go shopping.'"

It had been so long since she'd been home.

New York was achingly familiar, and yet it wasn't. The traffic-clogged streets and crowded sidewalks were familiar, and yet superimposed over the concrete and glass towers around her was the lush greenery of the DRC jungle, and the clean white lines of The Hague. She missed all of them, and yet also had missed New York. It was a peculiar feeling.

But as strange as New York suddenly felt to her, it wasn't unfamiliar to her companions. Courtney was driving a smaller Range Rover—'Semi-civilian,' she'd called it, "because of the extras we've added to it." Remembering what had been said about the 'extras' that Courtney had been mainly responsible for putting on General Hawk's favorite Hummer, the one in which Olivia and Clayton had been shot at, Alex opted not to ask what extras had been added to this vehicle. Courtney's two main passions were machines and, to a slightly lesser extent, clothes and dresses. She was going on now about dresses, cuts and fabrics and the differences between cocktail dresses, evening dresses, formal dresses and ball dresses, and Alex was listening and trying to sort it all out. If she asked a question about the Rover the blond tank jockey would start talking about pistons and camshafts and God only knew what else, and it would be hard to get her back on topic.

Which, right now, was etiquette. There wasn't a great deal of difference between what seemed to be required for a military evening function and the few events she'd attended as an ADA and, later, international functions at the Hague, but for Olivia, unused to anything except the annual policeman's ball (and even those she'd rarely attended) the information was invaluable. "Because you don't want to do anything that would reflect badly on Clayton."

"Oh no!" Alex burst out suddenly. "I don't know what Ettienne is wearing and I don't want to pick something that will clash with his uniform!"

"Relax. That's what we're along for," Allie teased. "We know what the dress uniform looks like and we can help you pick out something that won't clash. Though I seriously doubt Ettienne will care; to him you'd look just fine in jeans and a tshirt."

Courtney grinned. "Actually he'd prefer to see you in your birthday suit, but you can always show him that later." She ducked the swat Alex aimed in her direction and opened the door to the Rover. "Here. This is the best place in New York to find something off the rack. If we can't find anything here I'll take you to one of the designers and we'll have something altered for you."

Shana stopped Alex just before they walked in. "Alex. Here's something I want you to keep in mind; Snake Eyes will be going too. He hates things like this because he's probably even more self conscious about them than you, but he's going because its required, and he's also wearing his Class A's because its required and he can't wear his mask to hide his scars." Without another word, she followed Courtney and Allie and Olivia into the dress shop.

Olivia fell in love right away with a shimmering satin mermaid-line dress—sleeveless, bare-shoulder strapless form-fitting sheath to the knees, then opening out into a wide bell with a small train. The only problem was that it was in teal satin, and it would definitely clash with Clayton's dress blues. "Oh rats," she said, and would have put it back, but Courtney stopped her, then waved over one of the sales girls standing discreetly in a corner of the shop waiting for the women to request assistance. "See if you can find this in something that will compliment military navy," she said, and the girl smiled, took the dress, and hurried away.

"They're really listening to you," Olivia's eyes widened as she saw the salesgirl come back a short while later carrying something in a soft pearl satin and one in a medium navy.

"Of course they are. They know me." At Olivia's nonplussed look, she said, "Didn't anyone tell you who I was? Or, rather who I used to be before I decided I wanted to be a tank jockey? I used to be the Courtney Krieger, darling of the fashion world, cover girl extraordinaire. It may have been a few years since the last time I hit a runway but people still remember me. Sometimes, like now, it's a good thing."

She turned her attention to the dresses and immediately dismissed the navy one. "Too light. Next to Clayton's military navy it'll be too light and you'll just end up looking faded and washed out. It's not going to go over well, trust me." She saw Olivia's look and grinned. "Who do you think advises all the girlfriends of the guys on base?"

She liked the way the material flowed around Olivia's figure. "It's gorgeous. And you have really long legs and a nice hourglass figure, so the dress is perfect. I couldn't pull this off, I don't have enough hip for this one, but it looks good on you. Clayton's dress shirt is white, so wearing the light gray won't stand out and won't show him up. It's perfect." They even managed to find a pearl colored jacket to slip on over Olivia's bare shoulders and a pair of light gray satin strappy sandals. "Sandals are acceptable for a military function like this, for you civilians. Me and Shana and Allie are stuck with dress pumps, but at least you'll look pretty. Excellent if you want to try and impress the father of your child."

Alex wandered the racks as Olivia was trying on shoes, looking at the dresses and putting them back. Nothing appealed to her. Not that anything was like the marigold monstrosity that she'd hidden her testimony in back at The Hague, but it was the middle of summer and everything on the racks reflected the season. Strapless and sleeveless. She saw one dress that she thought looked promising, pulled it out, only to find large bold cutouts across the back, and she shuddered at the thought of what everyone would think if they saw the thick mass of scar tissue across her lower back. The thin red lines on her shoulders drew enough stares already. No.

"Still haven't found anything you like?" Courtney asked her, coming up behind her and looking at the cutouts. "Ew. No wonder you're putting that one back. That's just tasteless."

She had a similar reaction to the next dress that Alex pulled out, and then rejected a white sheath. "No sheaths, nothing form fitting. You're too skinny to pull that off." The same sort of comment with a wide-skirted ball gown that Alex looked at next. "Alex, you haven't gained the weight back yet and you'll look like a stick figure in Cinderella's dress. It'll be awful. Look for something in an a-line."At Alex's puzzled look, she said, "Form-fitting around the torso, draped skirt instead of a standout skirt."

She pulled out a dress, held it out for Alex to inspect. Alex shook her head and kept looking, They repeated this several times until Courtney said, exasperated, "You're as picky about your clothes as you are about your men!"

"But then she gets what she wants," Shana said. "The perfect man. For her, anyway."

They had almost given up on Alex finding anything that suited her when Alex found it. The perfect dress. Hanging on a forgotten clearance rack in the back of the shop, overlooked, was a stunningly simple white floor-length dress. The bodice had a high, not-quite-empire waist, a long flowing skirt with and overlay of floating silver lace, and a long scarf of that same lace formed a cowl neck, swept back and was caught by rhinestone pins at her shoulder, then swept back from the top of her shoulder to form a floating cloud behind her, obscuring the low back to the dress. The tiny silver beads sewn to the lacy fabric shifted and caught the light, effectively drawing attention from her scars, and as she tried a few experimental steps to make sure the dress wasn't too long and she wouldn't trip, the complete effect was of a shaft of silver light.

The only problem was that the zipper was stuck.

"That's easily fixed," Courtney snorted. "Come on. Let's get this and I'll fix it when we get back to base."


	29. Chapter 91: Ceremony

**Chapter 91: Ceremony**

"Before we begin, let me just say a few words," President Whitmore stood at the podium looking out over the sea of faces. In deference to the classified nature of the personnel involved in the operation and the classified nature of the operation itself, this was a closed ceremony, limited to his Defense cabinet, his Joint Chiefs, and the First Lady, who beamed from the front row. No press, which suited him fine and no doubt made the other people in this room happier as well.

Although usually the Joint Chiefs and his Defense Cabinet sat in the front row, he'd forced an exception in this case knowing that several members of the party were injured. Cath sat in the first row, quiet and composed. Next to her sat General Clayton Abernathy, a front row seat being a requirement as his leg was still in a cast. He'd still managed to get his dress uniform on, but the crutches were a dead giveaway.

Then came his second in command, Chief Warrant Officer Dashiell Faireborn. Whitmore had seen his impressive service record, had seen his codename of Flint, and had understood both when he actually met the man. There was an unmistakable air of command about him, and his bearing and carriage practically demanded respect; Whitmore could see why Abernathy had hand-picked this man to replace him as base commander if he ever retired. Next to Faireborn was another Warrant Officer, William Hardy, and Air Force Captain Brad Armbruster.

First Sergeants Conrad Hauser, codenamed Duke; and Brian Mulholland codenamed Brawler, came next; according to the mission files Duke had been in charge of the second team that extracted their fellow soldiers from the DRC and had smuggled Alex Cabot out of the country, and Brawler had been one of the jungle specialists that had found Alex Cabot and Dashiell Faireborn in the middle of the DRC jungle. Then came Sergeant Major Wayne Sneedon, who had led the team that went to Columbia to protect Alex Cabot when she went to face Velez; Master Sergeants Shana O'Hara and a scarred-faced silent man whom the president had been told was only known as Snake Eyes. Marine Gunnery Sergeant Ettienne LaFitte sat right after them; even though his rank in the Marines was different, he was roughly equal in rank to Staff Sergeant Alison Hart-Burnett seated next to him, so that made sense.

Seated after her was Sergeants Joseph Felton and Edwin Steen (who was also their medical officer; Whitmore noted that he'd been the one to keep everyone alive as they tried to get home after leaving the DRC and knew Cath would probably want to have a few words with him about Alex's scars). Then came Corporal Daniel LeClaire, the other jungle specialist who'd helped find Alex and Faireborn in the jungle; and Corporal Courtney Krieger, whose service file listed her as a 'mobile heavy armament transport specialist' but whom Whitmore (and probably half the rest of the guys in the room knew) as an extremely successful former supermodel. Cath would probably spend the rest of the evening talking to the woman about clothes and dresses.

And at the end of the row, the two civilians. Alex Cabot, dressed in an expertly tailored navy blue skirt suit; and beside her, NYPD Detective Olivia Benson. Both women looked composed and controlled, every inch the professional equal to the soldiers sitting beside them, and Whitmore wondered if they really were that composed or if they had learned the trick from the soldiers.

"I have been told that these soldiers, General Hawk's team, are the best that the US Armed forces have to offer. I will have to admit I was rather dismissive when I first began my presidency and learned about the existence of your team and your facility," he nodded to General Abernathy. "In fact I think my first reaction was 'Why do we need to spend more taxpayer money on another covert ops project?'."

Chuckles rippled around the room; Abernathy cracked a smile. "However, after this deplorable incident I can see now how crucial the existence of this team has been to the success of this mission. Looking at you now, I cannot imagine that any other special ops teams the US Armed Forces has to offer would have been as successful at escorting, liberating, and caring for Alex Cabot; true, she herself is an extraordinarily strong, resourceful woman," he inclined his head in her direction, "but if it hadn't been for this team and these people she would not have survived and wouldn't be sitting in this room at this moment. And I am relieved that she has survived to be with us today; our country is our people, and she is a shining example of the America that we fight for and strive to protect. General Abernathy, it is my understanding that when first handed this command, you had to argue with the defense cabinet then for permission to draw from the Air Force, the Marines, and Navy, is that correct?" Abernathy nodded curtly. "I am glad for your foresight and open-mindedness, and your persistence, in pushing for that cross-discipline team because I doubt that a team pulled from any one branch of the US military would have managed to bring Miss Cabot alive out of the DRC. I am also glad for your protective instinct in not abandoning a civilian when you walked in on her kidnapping attempt; by surrendering you may have saved her life as surely as she saved yours later.

"Each one of you has shown exemplary poise, clear-mindedness and heroism throughout this entire ordeal, and for this reason I wanted to make sure each of you is recognized for the service you have provided, the effort you have made and the benefit that you have provided your country. Because this was a classified operation and details cannot be released, I cannot give you the public recognition you deserve, but you know what you have done to earn these awards. General Clayton Abernathy."

Clayton stood up and shuffled up to the podium, where President Whitmore took the medal from its velvet-lined box. "The distinguished Service Cross is hereby awarded for the quick thinking, level-headedness, and honorable intentions you displayed in choosing to obey the spirit of the late General Clancy's orders instead of the letter. You displayed the highest ideals espoused by the American military in your conduct then, and also later when you stayed with Ms. Olivia Benson throughout her captivity, helped her to survive the painful ordeal she has been through and subsequently helped her escape."

Clayton braced himself as best he could on both legs, leaned the crutches against his side, and snapped a crisp military salute. The First Lady came up then, took the box from the President, and carried it back to his seat for him.

Flint was next. "For Chief Warrant Officer Dashiell Faireborn, the Meritorious Service Medal for gallantry and heroism. Being a prisoner of war isn't easy, especially when it wasn't even your war; it was a war between Ms. Cabot and Cesar Velez, and you and your team were unwittingly drawn into it. Thanks to your heroism and quick thinking, only yourself and Ms. Cabot were actually captured by the warlord, and your decisions kept the tally of wounded to a minimum. I can see fully why General Hawk has chosen to make you his second in command and I hope one day to see you in a command of your own."

Flint was visibly swelling with pride as he saluted the President and returned to his seat. Wild Bill and Ace received theirs for extraordinary courage and composure under pressure, for keeping their cool and piloting the team out of the DRC without exacerbating the injuries of the wounded.

Duke, Brawler and Beach Head also got Meritorious Service Medals, then the President cleared his throat and picked up the next medal. "For Master Sergeants Snake Eyes and Shana O'Hara, Soldier's Medals for outstanding valor. While the ICC is not technically hostile territory, you displayed exemplary courage in infiltrating, intelligence gathering, and ultimately discovering the truth behind the conspiracy that threatened Ms. Cabot's life." He hung the medal, on its optional ribbon, around Scarlet's neck and pinned Snake Eyes' medal to his chest; it would have been a gross breach of etiquette to have tried to pin the medal over Scarlett's breast. The two received their boxes, snapped salutes, and returned to their seats.

"Marine Gunnery Sergeant Ettienne LaFitte. While most of the assembled here are Army, we recognize the discipline and toughness the Marines call for from their best. What we tend to forget also that in addition to physical and mental toughness in combat, it takes a special kind of inner strength to choose to go out into hostile territory like the DRC jungle to find and help a civilian you've just met and have no personal connection to, to be the first one to stand up to a superior officer and offer to take the honorable course of action even at the potential cost of your career and your life. You are hereby awarded the Marine Corps Medal for heroism not involving actual conflict with an enemy. By announcing your refusal to abandon Ms. Cabot you forced your team to consider their responsibility as fellow humans over their ingrained strict adherence to orders, and saved Ms. Cabot's life as a result. Wear it with pride."

"Staff Sergeant Alison Hart-Burnett. While Gunnery Sergeant LaFitte may have started this chain of disobedience to orders, your decision to disobey the order of not only General Abernathy but also your immediate Mission Commander, Warrant Officer Dashiell Faireborn, and lead the remainder of your team into the DRC jungle to rescue Warrant Officer Faireborn and Ms. Cabot also directly affected the outcome of this mission positively. While the US Military deplores disobedience to orders, in this case your oaths to uphold honor and show kindness and compassion to a fellow human being was in direct conflict with those orders and displays the initiative and quick thinking we seek to nurture in our officers. You are hereby awarded the Meritorious Service Medal."

Recoil received his, and Then Lifeline was called up. "We do not often give these to the emergency Medical officers out on the front lines, and I have always thought we should more often. For while the others here fought a battle to get Ms Cabot out, it was your responsibility to ensure she stayed alive. I read your mission report and I can't imagine what you felt as you tried to help her, tried to patch her together and keep her alive on the trip back from the DRC with minimal medical supplies and no painkillers. It is a much harder battle than what most people fight, and I award you with the Meritorious Service Medal for your efforts and your determination." Lifeline took it carefully and snapped a salute, then headed for his seat.

"Corporals LeClaire and Krieger." Daniel and Courtney left their seats and approached the podium. "Meritorious service medals for both of you, Corporal LeClaire for using the skills he has chosen to specialize in to help guide his team to their mission objective and Corporal Krieger for the bravery and quick thinking displayed in the DRC as she avoided the assassination attempt made on Ms,. Cabot's life. The decoy maneuver you used was brilliant."

Courtney was blushing as the medal settled around her neck, but she snapped a salute along with Daniel, then followed him as they both retired to their seats.

"Detective Olivia Benson." Olivia got up and approached the podium slowly. Having been informed that she was still recovering, the President respectfully waited for her to come to a complete stop and catch her breath before commencing his speech. "We have chosen to award you with the Outstanding Civilian Service Award for substantial contributions of significance to the Army. I have always thought—and I am not alone in this—that police officers are no less soldiers than we are and should in fact be considered homeland military along with our Reservists and National Guardsmen. You and your fellow officers battle an internal enemy on friendly ground that can quickly become hostile, and nowhere was this shown more eloquently than the deplorable attacks on your city during Nine-Eleven.. Yet you never faltered, never gave up, and when it was most important you drew on the strength and discipline you have acquired and rescued General Abernathy from hostile territory even in the face of your own overwhelming personal pain and physical injury. We realize General Abernathy would not have escaped without you, and we are in your debt for saving such a distinguished, valued and valuable officer of the United States Army." He settled the medal on its ribbon around her neck, and she stared at it for a moment, dazed, then raised a shaking arm and saluted him before stepping down.

"And lastly, Ms. Alexandra Cabot." Despite her earlier reaction to the news, Alex's step was firm and her head high as she strode to the podium, stopped in front of the president, and snapped a crisp military salute. "Ms. Cabot, the entire US Armed forces owes you a debt of gratitude we cannot repay. While we understand that this all began with a personal vendetta waged against you by an unscrupulous Colombian druglord with extensive reach and contacts, which he used to pursue you and strike at you in various locations around the world. I have taken a look at your ICC file which Justice Donnelly graciously provided me, and I noted various written disciplinary forms for carelessness with equipment and destruction of ICC property. Understanding now that these were actually malicious attacks carried out against you by this druglord Cesar Velez, I am happy to inform you that your record has been cleared, your name and file restored to honor and all debts cleared and forgiven.

"You showed exemplary courage in going out into the jungles of the DRC and seeking justice for the victimized women and children there, giving a voice to those who would otherwise have had none. I cannot imagine what went through your mind each time you went out, but knowing the history of human rights violations in the region did not deter you from your chosen course of action, not even when you were gravely wounded on at least two occasions prior to this operation by factions in the DRC." Clayton and Ettienne snapped to attention at this, studying Alex through narrowed eyes; Olivia, watching, knew they were going to have a talk with Alex about those 'two occasions' later. Alex didn't flinch.

"There is no medal we can give, no award we can offer, that will ever compensate for the pain you have suffered, the unimaginable ordeal that you endured, and the long road to recovery that awaits you as you try to continue with your life. The medal is for recognizing your courage and valor in choosing to go with a small strike force to Colombia again, to provide a distraction while the combined resources of the US military put an end to the illegal activities that have plagued our nation's security for some time. The DEA, The ATF, and ICE all owe you a debt of gratitude, and while the classified nature of his entire operation precludes you from displaying this medal in public, the scars you bear on your body tell the story of your courage and bravery to all who have the intelligence to listen and I hope that you will never feel ashamed of them. Because of those scars, forty-two women and children liberated from Velez's human trafficking warehouse will never feel the same pain you experienced. We recognize it is poor recompense, but please accept the Secretary of Defense Medal for Valor, given to military employees and private citizens who perform an act of heroism or sacrifice with voluntary risk to personal safety in the face of danger."

"Forty two?" Alex's voice cracked on the number. "Jesus, forty two…" She suddenly realized she wasn't supposed to speak and shut her mouth, although her eyes were glazed in shock as the medal settled over her head and she almost stumbled getting back to her seat.

"Knowing that you will never be able to wear these medals in public, my First Lady decided that a private formal event be held here at the White House this evening in honor of Detective Olivia Benson and ADA Alexandra Cabot, at which event your new decorations can be worn for the first and only time in public. So if you would like to retire to your hotel rooms and dress, the Secretary of Defense will coordinate with General Abernathy and a car will arrive to pick you up from the hotel when you're ready."


	30. Chapter 92: Ball

**Chapter 92: Ball**

It was a clear dismissal, and the Joes, along with Alex and Olivia, stood as the assembled White House dignitaries filed out of the room. "Okay. Back to the hotel to dress and then back here to have dinner with the president. This is exciting!" Courtney grinned.

"Speak for yourself. I'm a nervous wreck," Olivia snorted.

Clayton turned to Alex. "Alex. The President said you were gravely wounded on two prior occasions. You never told us about those. What happened?"

Alex shrugged. "It's nothing. It wasn't Cesar Velez, it was just me being careless."

"What happened?" There was an edge of steel in Clayton's voice.

"It was nothing," Alex insisted.

"_What happened_?" Clayton and Ettienne both demanded together.

Alex sighed, rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "I was at a village when a warring faction attacked it. I was trying to evacuate a school when a handmade bomb exploded. I got knocked out. When I woke up Kris was there with the MSF doctors and he performed field surgery to pick a couple pieces of shrapnel out of my head. That was the first time I met him."

"Jesus," Ettienne breathed.

Clayton asked quietly, "And the second time you were wounded?"

"I was crossing a river with some villagers and didn't realize I had a cut on my ankle. It got infected by the bacteria in the water." She saw their looks. "I told you it wasn't Velez, I was just careless."

Clayton muttered something uncomplimentary about stubborn women and stalked off, but Ettienne just hugged her. "You're not going back, are you?" he asked her.

She hesitated a long time, and he pulled away from her, trying to look into her eyes. "Alex, please tell me you aren't."

"I…I don't think so, not for a while. But Ettienne, I have friends there, people who I care about. I still haven't found Shandi's mother. There's still a lot of people in Keshero who I was in the middle of helping. And the people in Nzoka—the last time they saw me I was bleeding all over your helicopter. They might like to know I'm alive."

"Let someone else tell them. Let someone else help them. You've given them enough of you already."

"But they're my responsibility, Ettienne. My friends. They can't walk away from the ruins of their lives, what kind of person would I be if I walked away from them when they most needed my help?"

"You can't honestly say that you aren't terrified at the thought of going back out there! Zimurinda is still there, still looking for you…"

"But without Velez there to plan his campaign for him, without Velez's plant telling him what to do, he won't be as effective." Her tone softened. "Ettienne, please. I don't want to fight with you. I am not going back, not for a little while anyway; Liv needs me. But…I don't know about later."

His accent thickened with emotion. "I love you, Alex. But I can't do dis. I can't watch you go out t'ere and risk your life again. I can't…I can't do all dis a second time. It nearly killed me de firs' time." He pulled away from her, strode to the waiting car with long, angry strides.

"'Tienne…" She almost went after him, but Olivia held her back.

"Let him go, Alex. He cares about you deeply and it's hard to watch someone you care about risk their life again after something like this happens." Allie spoke from behind them as she came up to Alex and Olivia. "Once he thinks about it, he'll realize that what he loves about you, and what makes you _you_, is that willingness to give everything for what you believe is right even when it may not make sense to the rest of us. However, I do want you to think about what you're doing, Alex. You nearly lost your life on two occasions before this, and then this conspiracy with Velez and Zimurinda happens. To keep risking your life like this is unnecessary and foolish. While you believe you have a responsibility to the people you were trying to help, no one is going to blame you if you pull out now, you also have a responsibility to the people here; Ettienne and Olivia mostly, but also to everyone who's seen you through this and helped you." Allie swept on past them and headed for the limousine that would take all of them back to the hotel.

"I don't want you to go back out either, Alex. I understand you might want to go back because you have friends there and you want the people you care about to know you're okay, but I don't want you to stay. The next time someone shoots at you they might hit you and that would kill me. Not to mention him." Ettienne had taken a seat toward the back of the limo and was concentrating on not looking at Alex, which hurt even though she understood. "Don wants his kids back, you, me, Elliot. And don't tell me you haven't missed New York. And Ettienne's fallen in love with you, and it wouldn't be fair to him either. So think really hard about it before you decide, okay?"

She did think about it, as she was slipping into the new dress (Courtney had indeed fixed the zipper) later and surveying the effect of the lace floating behind her shoulders in the mirror. It didn't hide all of the scars, but it did cover enough of them so that they weren't the most immediately recognizable feature of her body, and the silver beads sewn to the lace drew eyes to it and away from the scars. Putting makeup on felt strange; after three years in the DRC without any, she thought she looked unnatural and not like herself, and after some consideration she settled for a light coat of powder, generously donated by Shana because her skin was the same fair porcelain color, and some lipstick. She, Olivia, and the three Joe women met the guys outside the hotel getting into the three black SUV's that would take them to the White House for dinner, and she was childishly pleased to see Ettienne's jaw drop as he took a step toward her.

"Uh uh," Courtney stepped between them, obscuring Ettienne's view of Alex as she firmly shoved him in the direction of the other SUV's. "You're not getting in the same vehicle as we are, you'll sit on her dress and wrinkle it or something. You get in this one, and we'll get in that one and she'll see you when we get there."

Whether by chance or design, the vehicles carrying the guys got there first, and Ettienne was waiting for Alex as the door opened. Allie stepped out first, her long dress skirt no hindrance to her practiced striders, and she saluted Dash before she took his elbow and allowed him to walk her from the vehicle drive around the side through one of the White House gardens. Snake Eyes took Shana next, and Beach Head offered Courtney his arm, which she took with a delighted smile.

Clayton looked ruefully at Olivia. "I'd offer you my arm but the crutches sort of preclude that," he said regretfully. "If you can forgive an old thickheaded General for that and take a raincheck, I'll offer you my arm properly later this year when we go to attend the annual Army Ball."

"What?" Olivia almost stopped walking.

"The Army has a big annual bash for all Stateside personnel, and we're allowed to bring friends and family and significant others. I usually show up for that alone, but this year you'll come with me." He tipped his head, thought. "Provided you accept the invitation, of course."

Olivia's eyes acquired a decidedly mischievous sparkle. "Provided I can bring you as my date for the annual Policeman's Ball."

It was his turn to be momentarily speechless. "Um. You really want…"

"I usually attend alone or I don't go at all, but after some of the high profile cases I've worked on in the last year, Don said I really should attend this year in case they want to pin any medals on me. I'd be honored if you'd attend as my date."

"I'd love to," he smiled as they started off down the walk toward the open door that led into one of the White House's formal ballrooms. "Cops have medals?"

She stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Of course we do. We're patterned after the military, after all. But press aren't allowed in and it's kept kind of low key because we don't want any civilians knowing who's being decorated for what in case they decide to take exception. We're not universally liked."

"That I understand." He smiled as they stepped into the ballroom.

Ettienne almost stumbled on the cobblestoned walkway that led through the garden to the open ballroom door, barely able to see the walkway for the beautiful woman beside him. "You look beautiful, chere," he'd said when he gave her a hand out of the vehicle. She paused for just a moment to shake the wrinkles out of the skirt (the material was quite forgiving of little wrinkles) and then proceeded to take his offered arm.

"Thank you. You have no idea what trouble we went to in order to find the right dress. I'm lucky I had Allie and Shana and Courtney to tell me what color your dress uniform was so I didn't pick something that clashed."

He stopped walking, pulled her into a close hug, ignoring the Secret Service personnel who were urging them to proceed up the walk a little faster. "No matter what you wore it would have been perfect. Just the fact that you're here and alive to worry about what you're wearing is a miracle. And I will never take that for granted. And I apologize, Alex—I have no right to tell you that you can't go back out to the DRC. Your selflessness is a part of you and I wouldn't love you as much if you were any different. But promise me one thing."

"What?" she asked, leaning in.

"If you do decide to go back out, let me know in advance so I can arrange for a leave and go with you. I'm not asking you to marry me; I'm not asking for a commitment. It's too soon and you need to step back and find yourself after all that's happened. I'm just asking that you give me the chance to go with you and protect you so nothing like this ever happens again."

She threw her arms around him in a hug. "I promise, 'Tienne," she said quietly, swallowing around the lump in her throat. "If I leave again I promise I'll give you the chance to go with me. I love you and I don't want to make you unhappy." She disengaged, but took his arm as they resumed their interrupted walk to the ballroom.

"I guess she doesn't have to worry about what her boyfriend would say," Cath said with satisfaction as she and President Whitmore watched the last of the guests arrive. The slender figure in white had caught her eye, and she'd seen how close they stood, and the look in their eyes when they saw each other. "After all that's happened he knows what she looks like and he doesn't care. That's perfect."

"Playing matchmaker, hey?" President Whitmore smiled fondly at his wife.

Cath shrugged. "I'm observing," she said primly, and the president smothered a grin as he turned to look at the rest of the ballroom, checking to see if all the invited guests had arrived.

"What about them?' he nudged Cath, gestured to General Abernathy and Detective Benson. "There's an interesting pair." He didn't know if this relationship had started during their ordeal in Medellin, or if it had started before, when General Abernathy had gone to her to tell her Alex was alive, but it wasn't his business, and he didn't really care. There was plenty of military authority here who could take General Hawk to task if it were the former, but somehow he didn't think it likely that they would. Clayton was now sitting at one of the tables close to the empty portion of the floor meant for dancing with his crutches leaned against the edge of the table; Olivia sat next to him, and as they watched the Secretary of Defense came up apparently to greet them, then sat down to talk.

Cath noticed the attraction. Of course. "He's a good man, and she's a dedicated officer. I don't know how that would work, though, with their jobs being what they are."

"Sir?" one of the Secret Service men leaned in close to Whitmore. "Everyone's here. They're ready to begin."

Cath beside him, he took the small podium off to one side of the room "I'm going to make this brief, as this isn't an official occasion," he said. "We are gathered here tonight to honor the efforts of some of the best of our armed Forces and the brightest shining lights of our citizenry. General Abernathy and his soldiers have performed services above and beyond the call of duty, and we are here to recognize them for that—and Ms. Alexandra Cabot and Detective Olivia Benson have given everything they had for the defense of this country. They have been recognized for their services but since this recognition can never be worn publically, in deference to the classified nature of this operation, this gathering marks the one and only time they will be able to show the world what they have done. All of you here are acquainted with the details, so please, as we go through the evening, feel free to take the time to acknowledge their efforts. Dinner will be served in half an hour in the formal dining room, and then those who dance are welcome to return here." He spoke directly to the cluster of Joes at the table Clayton was seated at. "Enjoy yourselves."

Alex looked up as Ettienne stood, held out his hand, and bowed to her. "Would you like to dance?"

She looked askance at him as the strains of a lovely old-fashioned waltz filtered through the air. "You dance?"

"Very well indeed. A hidden talent. One I acquired to charm the ladies."

"Let me tell you something, Ettienne, you are not as charming as you think you are." But she was already rising from her chair.

"Yes I am." His grin was pure enjoyment, and she grinned back as he led her out onto the dance floor.


	31. Chapter 93: Epilogue

**Chapter 93: Epilogue**

"This is a really beautiful place," Alex stretched luxuriously out on the thick towel laid out in the sand. "I don't blame Shana and Snake Eyes for falling in love with it."

"It _is_ gorgeous," Clayton said happily, sitting on a towel beside her, smoothing sunblock on Olivia's back and shoulders. "When they said the travel arrangements stranded them here for an extra week, all I could initially think about was the inconvenience of it. I knew they enjoyed themselves, and I know they've been back here a few times since, but I'd never been here."

'Here' was a small sandy beach on the west coast of the island. Although the main road, State Highway 3, was only about half a mile from this secluded beach, the sound of traffic didn't penetrate this far, and if you ignored the well-stocked and furnished tourist cabin behind them, you could almost believe that you were stranded on a desert island.

"It's the perfect place for a couple of wounded soldiers to relax," Olivia said, taking the bottle of sunblock from Clayton and capping it. "Thank you."

"I think I'm going to go take a swim," Clayton said, standing carefully. The cast had come off his leg a couple of days before they left, and he was walking fine, though still being careful. "Ettienne might want some company out there." He headed out toward the surf, where Ettienne was swimming in and out of the waves, clearly in his element.

"If Clayton wants to buy this land and set it up as a soldiers' convalescent hospital, he couldn't pick a nicer place. The road isn't far, and Palmerston North is only three miles away, and the food is definitely good." She looked at Alex critically as the blond lawyer sat up. "You've put on some weight since you got here."

"I've gained a lot of weight since Velez died!" Alex laughed as she took the sunblock from Olivia and poured some into her hand, preparatory to putting it on her legs. "I've bought three swimsuits since we got here!"

"It's nice having an expense account, isn't it?" Olivia asked, then saw Alex's blush. "You are using the expense account for this, right?"

"Um…well…Ettienne's been pretty much paying for everything, and I don't think he's used the expense account for all of it," Alex admitted.

"Alex! I thought you hated it when the guy pays for everything!" Olivia pretended to be shocked as she took the sunblock from Alex and started applying it to her friend's legs.

"The old Alex did. The new Alex…well…" Alex shrugged. "I kind of found I like being babied." She saw Olivia's look. "Just a little!"

Olivia laughed. "Okay. I got you. Especially when you're being babied by a handsome gorgeous Cajun."

"He's no runway model, but there is a certain rugged charm about him. And he knows it too, and he can get cocky about it, but that just makes him…cute." Alex grinned. "But hey, you didn't do so bad yourself. General Hawk, of all people, Liv!"

It was Olivia's turn to shrug and grin. "He's so tough, but so gentle at the same time. I could see myself going out with him for a while."

"Maybe more than just going out now that you know you're expecting." Alex grinned as she untied the back of her bikini top. "Here, can you get my back? Just be gentle, some of the scars are still tender."

Olivia scooted over to sit behind Alex, applying sunblock to Alex's shoulders. "Jesus, Alex, I don't even want to think about what it felt like when you got these."

"Some of the ones on my upper shoulders are fading. The ones on my lower back, though…Lifeline told me to talk to a doctor about them because when I bend I can feel the skin pulling, and he says I may have to have surgery if they hamper movement." She sobered. "I will have to warn you, Liv—if we're going to be sharing an apartment—I still wake up screaming from nightmares every once in a while."

"Honestly, me too. I still see Sandra in my sleep, though I've gotten over flinching whenever you or another woman came near me." She saw Alex's look. "I tried so hard not to, but…"

"It's okay. I understand. We've always been friends, and that's not going to change, not even with a couple of guys now in the picture."

They were quiet for a moment as she worked her way down Alex's body, then she said, "Alex…can I see how the other scars are coming?"

After the way Olivia had been flinching at the presence of another woman, the fact that she could be casual about Alex's nudity now was a gesture of trust. "Of course." Alex tugged at the ties holding her bikini bottom around her hips, and she heard Olivia's soft indrawn breath as she saw the full extent of the damage done to her body for the first time.

"Alex…" Olivia's eyes were fastened to Alex's now naked body. Though her skin was browned by a week of sun and sand, some of the worst scars were still evident, red against the paler portions of her skin, the parts of her that were covered by her bikini. And Olivia knew it was a testament to how comfortable Alex felt around her, around Ettienne, and Clayton, that she could wear clothing that showed her scars.

"I know, it looks terrible." There was a faint hint of discomfort in Alex's eyes.

"No. That's not what I was going to say. You're gorgeous, Alex." Olivia, desperate to soothe that hurt, uncertain look from Alex's eyes, stood up next to her friend and hugged Alex gently. "You've been through something unimaginable and you've come out stronger for it."

"Hey, your ordeal wasn't a cakewalk either," Alex said quietly, turning to face Olivia. "Sandra did a number on you." She raised Olivia's arm, let a drop of sunblock fall on the inside of Olivia's elbow, and rubbed it in. "The drugs…" another on the circular burn on Olivia's right breast, untying the string bikini top as she did so, and then her hands climbed to the circular burn on the side of Olivia's neck. "The electricity. And what she did to you down there. Have you fully healed from that?"

Olivia nodded. "The stitches came out a week ago, right before we left." She suddenly giggled. "Alex…"

"Hmm?" Alex's hands never stopped working the sunblock into Olivia's shoulders and neck.

"We have an audience."

"Mm. I know. I can feel the heat coming out of Ettienne's eyes drilling into my back. And he's probably turned on as hell right now, he was back in Medellin at Club Mangos when I was dancing with Shana and Courtney. All three of us could feel the guys staring at us, that was one of the reasons why we put on a show. It was for them as much as it was for the mission." She looked into Olivia's brown eyes, her own blue ones sparkling with humor and happiness. "Wonder what Clayton's thinking?"

"Jeeezus Gawd!"

Clayton took a step backward into the surf, going just a step deeper so that his primal, physical reaction to the sight of Olivia and Alex standing there on the beach wasn't as evident. Beside him, Ettienne did the same. "_Mon Dieu_," Ettienne breathed fervently.

"Um…Ettienne. Are you sure you're ready to take that on?" Clayton gestured to Alex.

Ettienne snorted. "I already knew she liked girls, and truthfully, it doesn't bother me one bit. Watching Alex and Shana and Courtney in Medellin was a hell of a turn-on. The question is you—are you sure you're ready to take that on?" Ettienne gestured to Olivia.

Clayton had to think about that one as Olivia's bikini top and bottom joined Alex's on the sand, as Alex's hands kept working sunblock into Olivia's skin. "Um. I don't know. I can't even think right now."

"I don't want to think. Come on, let's remind them that they still need a man for something." Clayton started to say something, but Ettienne hushed him. "Don't think. Don't analyze. Let's just enjoy what we have for now and let everything else go to hell in a handbasket if it wants to. Me, I'm going to go enjoy Alex."

Clayton had his reservations as he started to head for the beach, but as he tapped Olivia's shoulder and she turned to look at him with a mischievous smile, then wrapped her sun-browned, oiled arms around him, his reservations disappeared. "Was wondering how long it would take for you two to come join us," she purred as Ettienne and Alex headed for the cabin without a backward glance.

And then there was no more room for any thought, any talk, at all, as his lips locked with Olivia's.

**Author's notes: And that's it! That's all for this book! All my thanks to everyone who has stuck with me throughout this novel. Seriously, it's been a roller-coaster ride and I've enjoyed writing it hopefully as much as you enjoyed reading it (if the reviews I've been getting are any indication.)**

**But if you know me or have seen the other stuff I've posted, you know that I rarely ever write one-shots, and this was no exception. This is a series (I'm currently in the middle of the third novel with definite plans for a fourth book and ideas for a fifth) so we're not yet done, not by any means!**

**The second book in the series, G.I. Joe: SERE, covers some slightly controversial topics, namely the hotly-contested SERE (Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape) courses that every Army soldier is required to take. It will also introduce a new member to the Joes, one who is going to have a very significant effect on several members of the team…but I'm not going to say anymore, or I'll ruin the surprise! The first three chapters of SERE are going up concurrently to this one, so look for it!**


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